


Hard Work, Harder Falls

by NikoNotHere



Series: Becoming Whole Together [3]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Concerts, Dark Past, Depression, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, F/M, Festivals, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Touring, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 64,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere
Summary: Rammstein is on tour, playing Festivals and occasional headlining shows across Europe. Till and Richard are faced with the difficulty of maintaining a relationship amongst tour excitement and drama, while Schneider is realizing his own relationship struggles.
Relationships: Christian Lorenz/Christoph Schneider, Paul Landers/Christian Lorenz, Richard Kruspe/Christoph Schneider, Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann, Till Lindemann/Christoph Schneider
Series: Becoming Whole Together [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604857
Comments: 356
Kudos: 138





	1. Haircuts

It had been several months since Rammstein had left their cozy little flat and embarked on their newest tour in 2013. The beginning headlining shows had been spectacular and a great start to the tour, but the next few months were going to be a whirlwind of festival concerts, involving a lot less stress, at least in Richard's mind. They didn't have as many pyrotechnics to worry about, the crowds were a lot more easygoing, he felt, and the pressure to perform was eased by the fact that they weren't the only band at the festivals. 

Richard thrived under the spotlight, but even he had to admit that headlining their own tour was exhausting, wonderful though it was. This seemed to him like a break from the madness, and he enjoyed the energy and spirit of the festivals in a different way from the headlining shows. 

They had just arrived in the Netherlands and were preparing for their first festival show in two days. Till had eagerly shown Richard the latest of his outrageous stage outfits: this time it was a huge, fluffy pink fur coat that he wanted to open the show while wearing. Richard had shaken his head in amusement at Till's excitement over the stupid looking coat. It looked even worse with his blonde hair, though Richard admitted he had been ravenously drawn to the blonde. 

The day Till had come back to the hotel with his hair dyed, Richard sat in stunned silence. Mistaking his lack of words for disapproval, Till's shoulders had slumped, and he began muttering about how he didn't really like it anyway and would probably dye it back to black. 

Richard had interrupted his self-conscious spiel by getting up and running his fingers through the man's soft, pale-colored hair in awe. It looked too good; damn good. He made sure Till knew it, too, and the pair christened their new hotel room, with Richard pausing during the sex every so often to simply push his fingers through Till's hair and marvel at its beauty.

Back in the present, Richard, Till, Paul, Oli, and Flake were eating breakfast at the hotel; and thinking on the topic of hair, Richard mused, Schneider had said something about being out this morning at the barber. 

Richard winced a little, remembering the conversation with Schneider earlier that morning. He'd gone to Schneider's room to ask about borrowing some hair product, as he'd forgotten his when they flew down to the Netherlands. He would be damned if he stepped foot outside without his hair looking perfect. As he'd been about to knock, he heard Schneider's voice, angry and yelling on the phone. Richard felt awkward and wanted to leave, but his curiosity got the better of him. Besides, he really needed thait hair gel.

He only caught snippets, but it sounded as though Schneider were arguing with his girlfriend about plane tickets. Richard waited until he heard the man hang up, then knocked lightly. 

"What?" Schneider's voice was tight and angry.

"It's Rich, I was just coming to ask to borrow some gel."

Schneider unlocked the door and let him in. He was flushed and looked very irritated, but kept his voice in an even but brusque tone.  
"Sure, take whatever you want. I'm on my way out to the barber anyway and won't need it."

With that, he'd grabbed his messenger bag and brushed past Richard out into the hallway. 

Richard knew Schneider and his girlfriend had been having issues lately, and he felt legitimately terrible for Schneider. Having a significant other while on tour-- assuming they weren't also part of the band-- was very difficult. Oli had maintained a long distance relationship, flying back every few weeks to spend time with his girlfriend. Richard couldn't understand how they did it, and was impressed at their resilience. 

Schneider had tried to bring his girlfriend on the road with them. It had been pretty clear to everyone that she hated all the traveling and everything that went along with a life on tour, but Schneider had been stubborn and adamant that it was going to work. 

As he ate the last of his breakfast, Richard truly hoped it would.

\------------

"Are you sure, Mister Christoph? Very few people have hair this nice."

Schneider was sitting in a local barbershop, his jaw tightened in a scowl.

"Just get it done," he said tersely. 

The barber gave him a long look, then sighed and said, "Of course."

Schneider swallowed as the man began shaving up the back of his head. He watched silently as his long curls began to fall to the floor, lifeless and dead, not unlike how he currently felt. The thought pushed a painful lump in his throat. 

He should be happy. He was part of a wildly successful, internationally famous band. He had complete creative control over his drums and his contributions to their music. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him. His bandmates were his best friends, and their fights and disagreements were always minor and resolved within a day. He had money, fame, arguably strong talent, he traveled all over the world and met fascinating people in breathtaking places. 

He should be happy.

But he wasn't. 

Schneider felt choked as he saw the last of his pretty curls shaved off, leaving him with just a bit of bangs in the front and the rest close-cropped. He looked like an entirely different person now. That's what he'd wanted, and the barber had done the job well. He looked professional, and a bit older as well.

It still didn't make him happy. In fact, Schneider felt almost ashamed for some reason. His reasonings for cutting his hair had seemed solid at the time. He needed a change, long hair got in his way too much while drumming, it took a lot of time and care to keep looking as good as it did.

And his girlfriend had loved it.

Tears threatened to cloud his eyes, but he bit his tongue in retaliation and held them back. He didn't need a girlfriend. It was perfectly fine that she decided she couldn't follow him on tour anymore. It was fine that she couldn't handle a life on tour, and it was fine that he couldn't accept a long distance relationship, even for just a few weeks at a time. It was fine that she'd broken up with him.

It was fine. 

Schneider had been through worse and come through just fine. He'd had girlfriends and lost them, he'd had love and lost it. This wasn't new territory for him. 

Granted, the way he'd clung to this girlfriend was much more intense and whole-hearted than any previous relationship. He had put the entirety of his mind, time, and energy into it, apparently to the effect of being stifling, as she'd phrased it. He still denied that was the case, justifying that he was simply in love and wanted to spend his time with her as much as possible. It kept his mind as well as his heart occupied, and far, far away from past heartache.

With a deep breath, Schneider forced a smile onto his face as he looked in the mirror at his new haircut. He thanked the barber, tipping him generously as it certainly was a great cut, regardless of his feelings. 

After hailing a cab to go back to the hotel, the weight and searing loneliness from the breakup suddenly hit him full force. Schneider buried his face in his hands in the back of the cab and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back friends! This segment might take slightly longer to do each chapter, as I'm actually having to do research on their tour dates, locations, even hair styles and costumes xD
> 
> Again, I won't be sticking religiously to the actual history to give myself room to fuck around, but I do want to have an overall accuracy with it.
> 
> Can't wait to keep going with you all on this segment!
> 
> (Also, the title is a placeholder until I think of something that isn't stupid xD)


	2. Aggression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider needs a break, Till decides.

Schneider had composed himself by the time he got back to the hotel. His eyes were a bit reddened, but he knew he'd not be pressed by his bandmates on that front, at least. He had no idea what they'd say about his hair though, or lack thereof.

He walked through the lobby and went to the elevators, when suddenly he heard a voice call out, "Doom? Holy hell, is that you?"

He turned and saw his friends grouped around a table in the breakfast nook of the hotel. He gave a half smile and raised his hand in greeting before walking over to them. 

Every single one of them, including Oli who was generally very hard to shock, sat with their eyes wide and their mouths either hung open or pressed into a confused frown.

'Hey, guys. How's breakfast?" he asked, a bit lamely.

"You, ah, cut your hair," Paul said.

Schneider shrugged, as if it were no big deal.  
"I needed a change. It was getting hard to keep out of my face when I play."

Everyone sat silently, staring at him. It made him feel wildly uncomfortable. 

"It looks very professional, Christoph," Flake finally said as the first person to get over his shock.

"It does," Oli agreed. "You look extremely dapper."

"It looks great!" Paul chimed in enthusiastically. "And I'm sure it'll be a relief to not have to take care of as much."

"You look great, Schneider," Till said, genuinely. "I like it a lot."

Richard bobbed his head in agreement, still unable to form proper words out of surprise at the sight.

Schneider felt himself get warm at the praise, even if it were just to make him feel better.  
"Thank you. It feels incredibly weird." He rubbed a hand across the back of his head, wrinkling his nose at the odd sensation.

Flake nodded and commented, "It took me about a week to get used to it when I cut mine. Showering was bizarre when I washed it for the first time. You'll use way too much shampoo."

Schneider smiled, thankful for the positive reaction from his friends. 

"I'll make sure to use less. I need to go wash all the loose hairs off of me anyhow. See you guys at rehearsal."

They all waved, and he could hear them muttering amongst themselves as he left. It didn't bother him. He knew he looked odd, and his new haircut would take some getting used to. At least they were supportive, regardless of how they might actually feel about it. 

\-------------

An hour later, Schneider was freshly showered, dressed, and ready for rehearsals. As Flake had warned, he had indeed used way too much shampoo, even after trying to use much less than he normally did. The feeling of cold air on the back of his neck was bizarre, and he'd already gotten into a habit of rubbing it uncomfortably every few minutes. On the bright side, it took no time at all to dry and style. All he'd needed was five minutes with a hair dryer and it looked just fine. Weird, but fine. Granted, he was nowhere near as picky about his hair as, say, Richard was. He enjoyed looking nice, but it wasn't the end of the world for him if he looked a little frumpy now and then.

After getting dressed, he grabbed his phone that he'd left charging while he showered. A slew of messages clogged his inbox, all from his girlfriend-- well, ex girlfriend, at this point, he was reminded by the venom lacing each of the texts. He sighed as he scrolled through them. He was all spent as far as tears were concerned, and now just felt numb and a bit tired reading through them. The gist of the lot was that he was far too clingy, much too aggressive and had no sense of affection or care.

Schneider rolled his eyes at that last bit. Just because she'd not taken the time to notice did not at all mean he wasn't caring or affectionate. He had spent nearly every waking hour with her. How was that not affectionate or caring?

He considered texting back something equally as vitriolic, but he refrained. It was over; no need to poke at a dying fire when you had no intention of using it anymore.

A small pain throbbed in his heart. He was truly going to miss her. He'd been so eager to start the festival part of the tour with her that he didn't really know what to do with himself now. All of his extra-curricular activities had revolved around spending time with her. Now what was he supposed to do? Spend time with the rest of the band?

Bitter feelings that he'd taken great care to stifle came slowly drifting back to his mind. Schneider rubbed a hand across his face in annoyance and tried to put his thoughts elsewhere. He'd done so well keeping himself occupied and not thinking too much of *him* in the past few months; he wasn't about to start now. 

He went over to the full length mirror on the wall beside the bathroom and studied his reflection. 

Well, he had to give it to the barber. Though he still looked so different to himself, Schneider had to admit to that he looked damn good with short hair. His new look didn't scream "rocker" the way his long hair had, but with the right outfits and attitude, he could see this current style screaming "sexy" at the very least.

He wouldn't be known as a Richard, but Schneider knew when he looked good, and he was ready to capitalize on that as a newly single man. He just needed to get rehearsal out of the way, first.

\-------------

"Okay, stop stop stop," one of their audio guys called out for the 10th time that hour. Everyone sighed in annoyance and stopped playing. 

They'd been at this for 3 hours now, trying to get their sound perfect and somehow failing spectacularly at it. The first time, Paul's guitar wasn't getting picked up at all due to a malfunction with the amps. Then it had been Flake's 2nd keyboard that refused to stay turned on as he was in the giant cooking pot, and after that, Till's microphones suddenly kept giving screeching feedback anytime he tried to sing.

"Now what's the problem?" Till asked, his nerves frazzled and his patience wearing thin.

"Schneider is way, way too loud for some reason," the guy said, running over to adjust some of the audio equipment.  
"I think we need to turn him down a bit."

Paul chimed in, "I don't think it's the equipment. I'm even hearing way more of him than I usually do. Schneider, are you just playing more loudly?"

The drummer shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of."

"All right; try it now," the audio tech said. 

The started Mein Teil over, skipping the intro and going right into playing.

Till was suddenly very aware of the drums as they played. He looked over and saw Schneider laying into them, beating into his set as if his life depended on how forcefully he could play. His face was tight and scowling as well, more than his usual tough expressions he had while playing.

"Stop!" the audio tech called again. 

Till was already walking over to Schneider, a bit concerned for him. 

At a pointed look from Till, the audio guy threw up his hands in resignation and told everyone to take five.

"Doom, you okay?" Till asked as he climbed up to Schneider's platform.

"Fine, why?" he replied irritably, leaning down to fiddle with his kick pedal. 

"You're a bit too, ah, aggressive today."

"I am not aggressive. Everyone else is playing too gently. This song is supposed to be hard and strong."

"Yes, but your type of "hard and strong" is a whole lot harder and stronger than everyone else's. You're drowning them out."

Schneider refused to meet Till's concerned gaze and continued to busy himself making tiny adjustments to his cymbals.  
"Maybe they should play louder."

"Maybe you should calm down," Till countered, his own irritation rising at Schneider's bull-headedness.

"Maybe I don't want to," Schneider said, only half joking.

Till sighed and massaged his temples with a hand.  
"Look, do we need to call it for today? We're clearly not getting much done in the way of rehearsal, and we really dont need it, so long as the equipment doesn't fail. We've done the routine plenty."

"Whatever you want," he responded non-commitally, now tightening the heads of his toms.

Till looked over at the audio guy and made a slashing motion across his neck, telling him they were done for the day. The man threw his clipboard in the air and stormed off. Till almost chuckled at that. He needed to remember to buy the man a beer later.

"We're done for today, guys," he hollered at everyone. Flake popped out of his cauldron with some relief. He was glad he didn't need to sit and get roasted more than necessary. Paul seemed fine with whatever they did and always had the same easygoing smile. Richard looked a bit miffed, but he always did when the rehearsal wasn't going perfectly. Oli simply nodded and wiped his bass down carefully. 

"We should eat. Is your girlfriend coming?" Till asked Schneider.

He finally stopped messing with his kit and met Till's eyes. Even someone as emotionally naive as Till could understand the look that the drummer gave.

"I'm sorry, Doom," he said quietly. 

Schneider just slowly shrugged.

"I think we should go check out the bars and clubs around here. What do you think? Take our minds off everything for a day."

Schneider gave a bitter smile.  
"Sure. I've got nothing better to do anymore."

\----------

After a quick meal, the troupe settled in at one of the nightclubs nearby their hotel. Oli had, as expected, declined to join them and went back to their hotel.

Till had clued in Richard on their way over about Schneider's breakup. Richard felt saddened for him, but unsurprised, both by the breakup and by Till's dogged determination to cheer the man up the best he knew how: lots of scantily clad women.

Richard watched as Till spent a exorbitant amount of money sending woman after woman to Schneider, ensuring he was given an outrageous amount of attention. Though Richard felt doubtful about Till's methods, it was clear after about an hour, it actually seemed to have worked. Schneider was grinning like a fool, drinking and enjoying the shows wholeheartedly. 

Till laughed happily as Schneider eventually clung to one and scampered off into the brothel side of the club. Till simply told them to add it to his tab as he ordered another round of shots for the rest of his bandmates. Flake was happily drunk and continued to try chatting to each of the ladies that came over about classic cars. They pretended to be interested until they realized he was only interested in conversation from them. Paul was red-faced and giggly as the ladies flocked to him, finding his shyness adorable and inviting. He never participated physically at any of the strip clubs or brothels they visited, but he always enjoyed the attention.

Richard laid his head on Till's shoulder and smiled. This was fun. 

"Enjoying the show, scholle?" Till asked him as a particularly buxom lady demonstrated her flexibility before them.

Richard grinned. He was not immune to the charm a beautiful woman possessed, despite having everything he needed right next to him. 

Till was in the same boat, his eyes roaming hungrily over the dancer while giving Richard's arm a squeeze.  
"Do you want to pick a lady?" Till rumbled in Richard's ear distractedly. 

After a thoughtful moment, Richard shook his head.  
"I prefer not paying for it."

Till opened his mouth but Richard interrupted him with a laugh, "And I don't want it if you pay for it either. I'd rather seduce women at the afterparties." 

Till nodded his understanding, but continued to keep his eyes locked on the dancer's fluid, sensual movements.

"Go on, then," Richard said, giving Till a little shove.  
"You go have some fun. Paul, Flake and I will go back to the hotel, I think."

Flake's voice had risen to a very loud volume as he tried to continue detailing and ranking the best classic cars to a woman who very clearly did not care, while Paul was drowning in the attentions of probably 5 different women. 

Richard rescued the flustered, red-faced Paul from the group of interested women, then pried Flake away from his beer and shooed them both out the door with him, giving a last wink to Till as the man passed by on his way to a room.

This was a good start to the tour, Richard decided happily.


	3. Drunken Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard watches over a drunken Flake and Paul as he waits for Till and Schneider to return to the hotel. Flake divulges a secret to the band.

Richard popped off his shoes and sat down heavily onto the hotel bed. Even though it hadn't been a particularly busy day, he still felt drained and tired. Flake was in the shower, for some reason deciding he needed one immediately and didn't want to go to his own room for it. Paul wasn't overly drunk but was quite tipsy and wanted to hang out in Richard's room as well. He was currently hunting through the mini bar for snacks and alcohol shooters. Oli had asked if he could join them as well to hang out after he got off a video call with his girlfriend. 

Richard just wanted to curl up with Till and go to sleep, but there was no telling how late he'd be out. He grabbed his phone and sent him a text, asking if Schneider were feeling any better and how late he thought they'd be out. Richard wasn't prone to worry, but he did have a little bit of anxiousness when it came to Schneider. He'd not been concerned while Schneider was dating his girlfriend, though he could clearly see they weren't working out. Now that he was single, he wondered whether the man's desire for Till would come back as well. 

He chose to believe it wouldn't, and that partying with Till would be more of Till pushing women to him rather than Schneider coming on to Till.

It was interesting to Richard how he felt nothing as far as jealousy was concerned when Till went after women. He even encouraged Till to enjoy himself when the situations arose, so long as he still made time for Richard a few times a week. Richard even had his own trysts now and then, usually at the after parties. But when it came to other men, Richard was extraordinarily protective. Luckily not very many men even had the opportunity to flirt with Till, as the after parties consisted mostly of women, or women with their significant others. 

But with Schneider single again, Richard felt a twinge of concern in his chest. He trusted Till; he wasn't so sure he trusted Schneider. 

A knock at the door roused him from his tired thoughts. 

"Got it!" Paul exclaimed, having found several bags of chocolate covered almonds and shooters of liquor in the mini fridge.

He scampered to the door, nearly knocking a towel-clad Flake over as he emerged from the bathroom. 

"Careful," Flake said cheerfully as he staggered over to the bed and sat down. He flopped himself backward onto it, nearly planting his head in Richard's lap as his towel slipped off.

"Gott, Flake, where are your pants?" Richard asked, shielding his eyes from Flake's naked body.

Flake started giggling drunkenly.   
"In the bathroom."

"Are you not going to put them on?"

"Nope." He giggled some more. "I like nakedness."

Richard sighed and re-wrapped the towel around Flake's waist to save his eyes. Flake just hummed contentedly, apparently in the happy/sleepy part of his drunkenness.

Paul returned to the room with Oli in tow, showing him the wealth of sweets he'd uncovered. Oli chuckled and congratulated him, then sat down in a chair near Richard.

"Having fun babysitting?" he asked with a grin.

Richard rolled his eyes and again readjusted Flake's towel to appropriately cover him. He'd dislodged it while rolling over to reach for a pillow to snuggle.  
"It's a blast. How's the girlfriend?"

"She's good. Nothing new, really."

"Same old, same old can be a good thing."

"In this case, yes," Oli agreed. 

Richard reached down and grabbed two of the unopened liquor bottles while Paul was distracted with struggling to open a bag of almonds. He'd downed two shooters already and Richard didn't need him running up their hotel tab any more than necessary. Richard hid them in the bedside drawer, reminding himself to put them back in the morning.

"Till and Schneider still at the club?" Oli asked.

"As far as I know."

Richard looked at his phone; no new messages.

"Don't worry. Till will take good care of Schneider," Oli said. 

Flake began giggling again into the pillow he's buried his face into.   
"He'll take goo-oo-ood care of Schneider," he slurred. "Schneider likes that."

Oli chuckled and asked, "What on earth are you saying, little drunken man?" He patted Flake's still-damp hair affectionately.

"Schneider likes Till," Flake said with a snort.

Oli's amused face turned slightly puzzled.  
"Of course he does. We all do."

"I definitely do," Paul chimed in around a mouthful of chocolate almonds. "Everybody likes Till."

Richard's stomach dropped as he realized what Flake was attempting to drunkenly communicate.

"Hey, Flake, buddy," he tried to interject hurriedly, "tell us about that car that--"

"Doom's liked Till since we made Sehnsucht," Flake continued, oblivious to Richard's panicked interruption. "Just doesn't want to say it."

Oli and Paul sat quietly, their eyes wide. Paul even stopped eating his almonds. 

"Flake, stop being ridiculous and go to sleep," Richard chided, hoping they'd chalk up his rambling to drunk nonsense. "You're not making sense anymore."

"I can't be clearer," he slurred, rolling over onto his back.   
"It's not my fault you can't understand Schneider's crush."

Well, there it was. Richard leaned his head back and sighed in frustration. 

"Richard, what's he talking about?" Oli asked quietly.   
"Did you know this?"

Richard pressed fingers to his forehead in exasperation.   
"Yes, I did. It wasn't supposed to be something everyone knew but, well, I guess here we are."

"He really likes him?" Paul asked, his eyes still wide and his stance a bit wobbly from the alcohol.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Is that why he and his girlfriend broke up?"   
Oli was far more perceptive than people gave him credit for, Richard mused.

"I really don't know," he admitted. "I never brought it up. I only found out right before he started dating the last girlfriend, so it didn't seem like it mattered."

"Schneider's too rough to Till," Flake interjected yet again, his voice becoming slower as he began to fall asleep. "Till didn't want him."

Richard sighed loudly. "Thank you, Flake. Go to sleep now before you start spilling national secrets or something."

Flake giggled quietly, then proceeded to immediately fall asleep.

Paul cleared his throat awkwardly, and for once, Richard was disappointed Paul wasn't too drunk to remember this.   
"What does that mean for you and Till?" Paul asked.

"Nothing. Till doesn't know, and I don't think he wants even a physical relationship with Schneider anymore."

"You think?" Oli asked carefully. 

"Yes, Oli; I think, because I have no earthly idea. I have no clue what Till might do or what Schneider might do for that matter. I trust Till. Schneider…"

He let the sentence hang, and both Oli and Paul nodded in understanding. They knew of them all, Schneider was the most impetuous and chaotic, especially while drinking. 

"Should we tell him?" Paul questioned, having abandoned his almonds entirely to focus on the conversation. Flake made snorting noises between them as he slept. 

"I don't think it's our place, and for all we know, Schneider got over his crush. I mean he has been dating since I found out about it, so he's probably over it by now."

A bang at their door made all three of them jump. Flake just snored louder. 

"Riiiiich," they heard Till call from the other side of the door. "Schneider's shitfaced. I'm gonna put him to bed."

Richard hurried to the door, as Till sounded quite inebriated himself. He opened the door to see Till grinning at him, Schneider's arm slung over his shoulder as Till supported his swaying body. 

"Schneider's drunk," Till offered helpfully, blasting Richard in the face with alcohol fumes of his own.

"You're drunk too, goofball," Richard said, leaning in to prop up Schneider's other arm across his shoulder.   
"Come on; let's put him to bed in Flake's room. Flake's switching rooms with us."

"Okay," Till nodded happily, beginning his staggering trek down the hallway. Richard was impressed Till had gotten Schneider this far already, as the man was little more than a dead weight hanging between them. He occasionally muttered something that Richard couldn't make out, but he didn't worry about it. He'd grabbed Flake's key card when he'd gone to take a shower, sensing the drunken keyboardist would end up sleeping in his room tonight. 

They reached the room and Richard unlocked it, helping Till move Schneider to the bed and take his shoes off. They didn't bother to undress him, but set him under the blankets and left a cup of water on the bedside table. 

"You gonna sleep with me, Rich?" Till asked hopefully, his big green eyes hazily focused on Richard's. 

Richard smiled at him and kissed his forehead.   
"Of course. But you need a shower first. Gotta wash off all the sex. Come on, let's clean you up."

Richard guided a wobbly Till into the bathroom and helped set up the shower for him, finally deciding to get in with him just in case. Till wasn't *too* drunk, but he preferred to be safe rather than sorry.

After a quick shower, during which Till refused to stop groping Richard, they dried off and Richard helped wrap Till in a giant fuzzy bathrobe. 

"There. Much better," Richard stated. "Now we can go to bed."

Till smiled, his eyes drooping as he leaned his head forward heavily onto Richard's shoulder. Richard staggered backward a few steps from the sudden weight, but caught him and guided him to the other bed across from where Schneider slept soundly. 

Richard tucked them both in, Till quickly falling asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around Richard. 

He fired off a quick text to Oli to make sure Paul didn't drink anything else from the mini bar, then snuggled in with his partner. Till nuzzled at his neck, then stilled as his breathing evened out in sleep. Richard released a heavy breath, then followed quickly after his partner into sleep.


	4. Good Morning, Bad Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard wakes up feeling horny.

Richard woke with a yawn, pleasantly warm with Till's body wrapped around him. They'd kicked the blankets off in the night, but since Till ran very hot when he slept, Richard hadn't even noticed. He envied Till's ability to sleep as late as he wished. Richard always seemed to wake very early unless he'd been drinking or stayed up until dawn before falling asleep.

He glanced at the other bed and saw Schneider still sleeping as well, his leg sticking out from under the quilt off the side of the bed.

Richard turned over in bed and snuggled his way into Till's chest, burying his face against the man's warm skin. Till grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake. Richard felt his eyes drifting closed from the combination of warmth and comfort, listening to Till's heavy heartbeat.

\----------

The second time he woke, Richard was feeling frisky. He glanced over and saw Schneider's bed empty. That served to make him even more excited. 

He scooted up behind Till and wrapped his arm around the man, cuddling and rubbing gently. Till stayed asleep, and Richard took that as a challenge. He let his roaming hand drift lower, rubbing along the man's heavyset hips and down to his thigh. Till was on his side, so Richard had to sit up a bit to reach his hand over Till's legs. He began gently rubbing along Till's groin, but with a firm touch so as not to tickle him. Till seemed to still be asleep, but his breathing became a bit heavier, Richard noticed. Having this control over Till was invigorating, and very, very hot. 

They'd discussed boundaries before, and Richard had mentioned one of his favorite things to do, at least with women, was to wake them with sexual pleasure. It made him feel powerful and aroused to be able to give unconscious pleasure. Till had been very open to the idea and encouraged it, though Richard hadn't yet found the opportunity to do it.

Now seemed like the ideal time. Schneider was gone, and they didn't need to be anywhere until late afternoon. 

Richard moved his hand to Till's manhood, still impressive even while soft. He slowly began to rub and squeeze, gently gliding his hand up and down as he felt satisfying stiffness follow his movements. Till inhaled deeply and released the breath with a bit of a rumble, but as far as Richard could tell, he was still asleep. 

Richard propped himself on his elbow behind Till's back as he stroked, and with a little maneuvering, was able to touch himself as well. He stroked in tandem, letting the heat build in his abdomen as he began to move his hands a bit quicker. Richard wouldn't last terribly long; he never did first thing in the morning. 

Richard heard Till's heavy breathing hitch as the man shuddered a bit, but still didn't seem to wake up. The thought of what dreams he could be giving Till by jerking him off as he slept pushed Richard far into the throes of arousal, and he felt his own breath stutter a bit. He bit his lip as he stroked faster, both on himself and on Till, trying to hold back until he got Till off first. He couldn't, and had to bite harder on his lip in an attempt to hold back his moans as he came into his hand and on his own belly.

He took in a long, shaky breath as he collected himself, his other hand gripped tightly around Till's flushed cock.

"Don't stop," came a rumbly, half-awake voice. 

Richard smiled, and began stroking Till again. The man gave little thrusts into his hand as he did so, a few quiet grunts the only other sign Richard was given that he was awake. When Till stiffened and jerked his hips hard up into Richard's hand, he stilled his movements, knowing Till liked to savor the feel of his dick spurting while held motionless, either in a hand or inside Richard.

Another quiet grunt was all Richard heard as the man finished, though his finish had been far from small, judging by the wetness he could feel on his hand and across Till's stomach as he released him.

"Good morning," Richard whispered into Till's ear, making him shudder from the tickle of his breath. 

"Good indeed," Till rumbled, his voice a low growl as he was still in the process of waking up.

As Richard leaned back smugly, he heard a weird noise from the other side of the room.

His eyes snapped up, and met Schneider's as he stood by the bathroom door. He was half in the doorway, looking both very awkward and very red.

"Oh, Doom, I thought you'd left," Richard said, flustered in all the wrong ways. He hid his messy hand under Till's side. Till just chuckled, still happily buzzed from his orgasm.

"I was sick," Schneider said, averting his eyes. "Just stayed in the bathroom in case I threw up again."

"You drank like a camel," Till said, amused at the situation and not at all shy. "I'm not suprised you got sick."

"Yeah." Schneider looked supremely uncomfortable, which only served to strengthen Richard's concern about the man's possible continued interest in Till.  
"I'm going to Oli's room. I think he has some tea." 

"Don't you want to stay and play?" Till asked invitingly. 

Richard glanced down and saw his partner was already stiffening again in anticipation. He really did have a near-instant libido switch, it seemed. 

"No," Schneider said flatly. "I don't feel well."

Till made a pouting, but sympathetic face.  
"Go get some tea, then. Make sure you try to eat something; soak up what's left of the alcohol."

Schneider nodded, already halfway out the door. He at least had the courtesy to gently close it behind him.

Till sighed and flopped onto his back, gazing up at Richard.  
"I shouldn't have let him drink so much," he lamented.

Richard stroked a finger across Till's face, the man's stubble scratching gently under his touch. He needed to shave.  
"You were drunk too, you know."

"Not that drunk."

"Pretty drunk."

"I remember everything. Not that drunk."

"All right, what did you do, then, if you remember everything?"

Till raised an eyebrow and grinned.  
"You actually want to know? Believe me, I remember. It was quite dirty."

"On second thought, based on what I cleaned off of you in the shower last night, no. I don't want to know. I'll just use my imagination."

Till laughed at that, then grabbed Richard in a bear hug and crushed him down on top of him. Richard's chest splatted against Till's front, both his and Till's messes creating an even bigger mess when squished together. 

"Gross, Till!" Richard exclaimed with a disgusted but amused look as he tried to wiggle away.

He held him firmly, moving his chest back and forth to rub fluids all over Richard's body.  
"You get to be dirty so we can take another shower together. See? I remember just fine."

Till pressed Richard's face down and stickied it as well, despite Richard's protests. He then pushed Richard down his front by his shoulders, sliding him through the slick mess down to his still-firm dick. Richard was confused at first but very quickly understood what Till wanted. He blushed, realizing Till was smirking down at him and licking his lips as he enjoyed the view of Richard covered in both of their semen.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you filthy, Rich," Till said, his voice little more than a throaty growl as his dick throbbed visibly. 

Richard's face burned from the attention, but he also loved getting "dirty" this way. They'd not done it much since the first time Till came on his face, but when they did, it was even hotter than the times before, somehow. Richard went to work eagerly.

Three doors down, Schneider leaned heavily on the wall of Oli's shower, hot water pelting his face as he bit down on his fist to stifle himself. His hips bucked into his hand as he came, no more than a quiet whimper escaping his mouth. The very second his arousal died down, the familiar sick feeling of hating himself and everything around him came roaring back, and not just emotionally. 

He took a staggered step back as he threw up in the shower, the combination of shame, disgust, and a head-splitting hangover promising to render him useless for the next few hours. 

He slumped to the floor of the shower, head hung as he gasped for air before retching again. He truly was sick, he thought to himself. This really was fitting for him.


	5. Dual Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake and Schneider are woefully hungover

After a quick wash, Richard went to go see Flake. Till had said he needed a bit longer in the heat and steam. And no, it wasn't from a hangover he insisted, since he didn't overdo the drinking, thank you very much. Richard just shrugged good naturedly and let him stay in the shower, deciding it was a good opportunity to go alone and see if Flake remembered his drunken revelations from the night before.

He knocked lightly at Flake's-- well, Richard's former room that he'd given Flake-- and received an exaggerated groan in response. Richard smiled and unlocked the door with his key card. 

"Good morning, sunshine," he called as he entered. Flake sat up in bed, looking positively dreadful. His hair stuck out at weird angles and he squinted at Richard with a disgruntled look on his face and heavy bags under his eyes.

"Would you please tell me what happened after about 9pm yesterday?" Flake asked in a very clinical way, his voice scratchy and deeper than normal from sleep. 

"I actually came to ask if you remembered last night, but I guess that answers my question."

"Let me guess: I took a shower and then tried to have sex with someone, or something."

"Shower, yes. Sex, no. You were too busy regaling the strippers with car facts as we left the club. 

"Damnit. I was hoping for sex," Flake said with a half-joking scowl. "I wish my brain used my drunken confidence to get me laid like Till and Schneider rather than spouting trivia."

"Well, about your "spouting…" Richard said hesitantly. 

Flake furrowed his brow at Richard, who'd sat down on the bed across from Flake.   
"What do you mean?"

Richard knew it would be better to be direct and frank with Flake, so he took a deep breath and said, "Last night you told everyone that Schneider has feelings for Till, and has since we created Sehnsucht. Also that Till rejected him because he was "too forceful."

Flake sat in stunned silence for a moment.  
"I did?"

"Not quite so eloquently, but yes."

"Did anyone else hear it?"

"Yes."

Flake groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.   
"Fucking alcohol. I'm never drinking again. Not only do I not get laid, I also apparently feel the need to divulge people's trusted secrets. Excellent job, Lorenz."

"So it's true?" Richard asked, a heaviness settling into his chest.

With a sigh, Flake nodded. "Unfortunately yes. I'm not entirely sure if that's still the case, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"I've suspected the same thing. He just seemed-- well, without getting too graphic, it just seemed obvious. I thought after he got with his most recent girlfriend, he'd be all right."

"Yes, well we saw how "perfect" that relationship was," Flake noted, dry sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Now that they've broken up, I worry he hasn't gotten over Till." Richard paused, then asked, "How did you find out?"

Flake frowned, then shook his head. "I don't know if I should say, considering we don't know if it's still the case. Give me time to look into it and see if Schneider's moved on or not. It's an incredibly personal thing, and I'm extremely upset that I told everyone."

"Well, not everyone. Till doesn't know. He thinks he broke off a purely sexual relationship with him way back when."

Flake threw his head back and let loose an extremely exaggerated sigh.  
"Of course he did. The man is no better than a dirt clod when it comes to emotional intelligence, especially when sex is involved. I didn't say anything to him when I found out because I'd assumed-- clearly wrongly-- that Schneider had talked to him about it."

Richard shook his head sadly.

"Well, I suppose we should ask Oli and Paul to please refrain from spreading that rumor any further, especially to Till. If he's going to find out, assuming it's still true, he deserves to hear it from either Schneider or myself; certainly not Oli, and absolutely not Paul."

"Maybe I should tell him," Richard offered. 

Flake studied him for a moment, weighing that option.  
"No, I don't think so. It runs the risk of coming across as jealousy, especially if Till has, well--" Flake cleared his throat pointedly, "--*been* with Schneider recently."

Richard made a face that Flake understood perfectly.   
"I see. Then yes, I believe it would be better to come from Schneider or myself."

With a sigh, Richard nodded, acknowledging Flake's points. It killed him to think about, but Flake was probably right

Flake was always right.

Flake made a shooing motion at Richard and flopped back onto his pillow with a groan.  
"Go inform Oli and Paul they're to keep their noses out of this and their mouths shut, and let me die in peace."

"You're not dying," Richard said with a smirk. "We'd be ever so lucky."

Flake shot him a dirty look from under his arm that he'd slung over his face.

"But yeah, I'll tell them." 

As he left, Richard called back to Flake, remembering earlier advice, "Try to eat something. Soak up the rest of the alcohol."

\-------------

Schneider was sure he was dying. 

He had spent upwards of an hour and a half in the shower, with Oli knocking at the bathroom after about 45 minutes and asking if he were all right. Schneider just told him he was sick, and apologized for hogging the bathroom. Oli, ever the caring man, asked if there were anything he could do to help. Schneider had turned him away. Oli told him he'd be in Flake's room if he needed anything. Schneider knew he wouldn't. He needed a good wallow.

As he finally gathered the strength to get up out of the shower, he felt the blood drained from his head. He had to grab the bar along the shower wall to steady himself and allow the vertigo to pass. He worried he would vomit again, but luckily his stomach stayed calm and his body settled.

His headache, on the other hand, was astronomically bad. Schneider felt as though it might split apart any moment, spilling his darkened mind everywhere. He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against one of his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure. When that failed, he whimpered a bit at the pain. He was like a baby when it came to non-sexual pain. Schneider barely managed to slip into a bathrobe before he needed to sit down again and rest his head 

He staggered out of the bathroom and flinched as morning sunlight hit his eyes through the hotel window. He made his way to the window and yanked the curtains closed angrily. Schneider had a very short temper when hungover, especially for irritations like sunlight.

"Oli, is Richard in there?"

Schneider stiffened as he heard Till's voice outside the room, followed by knocking. 

Schneider swallowed nervously, then went to the door, not wanting to yell for fear of increasing the level of pain throbbing in his head. 

He opened it slowly, raising his arm to defend against the light in the hallway.

Till helped hold the door as he asked, "Oh, hey Doom. Is Rich in here?"

Schneider winced and shook his head very slowly, worried it might dislodge from his neck if he weren't careful.

Till's neutral face switched to strong concern.  
"Are you okay? Bad hangover?"

Schneider wanted to slam the door in Till's oblivious face, crawl up under the hotel bed's blankets and sleep for several lifetimes. Instead, he just gave the tiniest nod.   
"Can't keep anything down" he said in little more than a whisper. "Moving hurts."

Till winced in sympathy.  
"I'm sorry I didn't cut you off sooner," he apologized. "Here, let me help you."

As much as Schneider wanted to yank his arm back from Till's gentle grasp, he didn't have the energy to even shake his head in protest. Till led him carefully over to the bed and helped him in. Till then pressed the back of his hand to Schneider's forehead, cooling his heated skin.

Schneider wanted to die. It was too much, all at once. He was ashamed of his desire for Till, even still after all these years. He was angry at Till's naivete and blissful ignorance of Schneider's feelings. More than everything, Schneider was disgusted by his own cowardice, and refusal to communicate how he felt, both back then and now.

Tears rolled down his cheeks before he even realized he was silently crying. 

Till swiped his thumb across Schneider's cheeks to wipe the tears away.   
"I'm so sorry, Christoph. I know how hard losing love can be. The loneliness is shit, and I'm sorry. I wish I could help."

*If only you knew,* Schneider thought, pain knifing at both his heart and head.

Till sat with him for an hour until somehow Schneider drifted back to sleep, with Till's broad hand resting on his head comfortingly.


	6. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made about whether to talk to Till, and Schneider determines to be happy, no matter the cost.

"That's why Flake wants us to keep it quiet."

Richard finished his little speech for Oli and Paul as they sat at the hotel's breakfast bar. Richard had purposely left out the part where he and Till had sex with Schneider, but detailed briefly Schneider's attraction to Till and their "breakup."

"So we don't know if he still "likes" Till?" Paul asked over a mouthful of breakfast pastry.

"No. Flake said he's going to try and find out, though."

"I mean, we have eyes and ears as well," Oli offered. "It wouldn't hurt to pay a bit more attention."

Richard made a face. "I just don't want it getting out of control. If everyone is awkwardly watching them and whispering as they pass by, it's only going to make it all worse, regardless of how Schneider feels."

"Give us a little credit, Rich," Paul said, sounding a bit hurt. "We're not complete morons."

"I won't say or do anything," Oli reassured. Richard knew he wouldn't, as he barely said and did anything worth noting on a daily basis anyhow. Oli was exceptionally good at blending in to backgrounds when he wanted to.

Paul, on the other hand…

"I know what that look means," Paul said, an air of offense in his voice. "I'm not going to either. But that said, I think Till should know. Doesn't it seem backhanded that we all know and he doesn't? I'd want to know."

Oli gave a slow nod in agreement, and Richard felt his stomach clench. Was he really doing the right thing? Should Till know?

He shook his head to clear the worrisome thoughts and said, "It doesn't matter what it seems like. Flake knows Till better than anyone, probably even me; and if he says wait to let him figure it out, I think we should wait."

"I suppose so," Paul said doubtfully, staring morosely into his coffee. "I still disagree, but I guess I wouldn't know what to say even if we did decide to tell him. I won't though, if you're sure."

Richard had to acknowledge Paul's statement as well. Even he didn't know what he'd say if the duty fell to him to tell Till.

"I just don't want this to fuck anything up," Richard said quietly. 

Paul reached over and patted his back. "Don't worry, Rich. You and Till are just fine. If Schneider does still have feelings for him, I'm sure he's not stupid enough to let them get in the way of you two or the band."

With a sigh before sipping his coffee, Richard sincerely hoped that would be the case.

\----------

Schneider's head still felt as though it were clamped in a vice grip when he woke up for the second time, but at least he didn't feel nauseated this time. 

He blinked his eyes slowly, blearily taking in his surroundings. He squinted in the darkness, trying to figure out what time it was. A short snore sounded next to Schneider and startled him. He looked over and saw Till in a chair next to his bed, arms crossed, head lolled back and his mouth open, sleeping and snoring gently. 

Schneider swallowed at the lump that immediately rose in his throat. Why was Till even here? His brain was foggy from both sleep and the pain of his hangover. Oh right; that was why. He'd been painfully hungover and Till had tucked him into bed.

He winced as he recalled Till's hand wiping away his tears, mistakenly assuming they were because of his recent breakup. Schneider felt like a jerk, as though he were taking advantage of Till's kindness and sympathy when he didn't deserve it at all. If Till knew why he'd been crying, surely he'd have left him in his misery, as he well should.

Another thought crossed his mind, and he was disgusted that part of him felt a bit smug at the attention he received from Till. He knew it was awful of him, but he couldn't stop the self-satisfaction that sat right alongside his feelings of shame.

Schneider slid carefully from the bed, doing his best not to wake Till. He needed water, and if possible, something in his stomach to keep the acid in it from tearing away at his insides.

With quiet steps, he padded around the room and back to the bathroom. After drinking some water from the complimentary paper cups, Schneider stared at his reflection. He'd forgotten about his haircut momentarily and was shocked at the person looking back at him.

The man in the mirror looked haggard, worn down, and definitely like he'd spent a few hours throwing up recently. The bags under his eyes were severe, and made the redness in his eyes much more apparent. Schneider rubbed them hard in irritation. He couldn't keep this up. This misery would kill him, he felt sure.

Schneider took a deep breath, then splashed the cold water from the faucet against his face, rubbing and washing himself. Maybe the shame and disgust would go down the drain with the dirt. After washing, he wet his hair and styled it with a bit of gel, sweeping his bangs off to the side. With a parting nod to the mirror, Schneider left the bathroom and went back to his own room to change clothes and figure out where everyone else was. 

Within twenty minutes, he'd changed, shaved, made sure he smelled nice, and was almost impressed at his appearance. Richard had texted that they were all downstairs eating breakfast, except Till of course, and to join them when he felt better. Schneider pulled on his shoes and walked out of his room to the elevator, confidence coming back into his stride.

He may feel like the scum of the earth, wrapped tightly in an anxious yet depressed package, but he would be damned if the rest of the world saw it on the outside. "Fake it 'till you make it," right?

He would radiate confidence and happiness if it killed him.

\------------------

Richard was surprised but pleased to see Schneider coming down for breakfast. He looked good, extremely good, compared to the bedraggled, hungover version of Schneider that had been in their bathroom this morning. 

"Guten Morgen, everyone," he said cheerily, sitting down and pouring himself some coffee. 

Everyone nodded and said their hellos, thankfully with no sign they'd been having a serious discussion about him a few minutes before. 

"How's the hangover?" Paul asked. "According to Till, you were "shitfaced" last night."

Schneider waved a hand dismissively.   
"Got it all out of my system earlier this morning. I feel fine. I need some food, though."

Paul held up his plate piled high with bread and cheese, and said, "The breakfast here is extremely good."

"It was very good," Oli agreed, his own plate already empty for the second time that morning.

"Excellent. I'll go get some, then," Schneider said before ambling over to the breakfast bar.

"He seems perfectly fine to me," Paul murmured behind his coffee mug.

Richard shot him a look to shut him up. Now was not the time to talk about it.

Paul shrugged and went back to his food.

The rest of their breakfast passed without incident, and Schneider did indeed seem perfectly fine. He smiled, joked along with everyone else, and barely even glanced up when Till joined them a few minutes later. Till complained of a stiff neck as he said he'd fallen back asleep in a chair after his shower. Flake was the last to get down to breakfast, and he still appeared to be in a very sour mood as his hangover still clung to him. Of the six, Flake always had the hardest time bouncing back after illnesses or hangovers; anything that bothered his body took awhile to get back to normal.

The group then went their separate ways for the day, agreeing to reconvene that afternoon for their final rehearsal before the show.

Schneider opted for practicing in the meantime, spending several hours straight onstage drumming, sharpening his rhythm and letting himself get lost in the music and beats. Practicing made Schneider feel whole, complete and satisfied. He didn't have to think about his feelings, or his failed relationship, or how tiresome it was pretending to be happy. He could just play his drums in peace. 

After three hours, he actually felt truly good again. He was sweaty, his arms and legs burned from the exertion, his mind was exhausted, but he felt *good.* He enjoyed the fact that his hair wasnt in his eyes, and he didn't need a headband to keep it back as he played. Perhaps it really was a good choice to cut his hair. 

Schneider maintained his positive mood through their rehearsal later in the day, and somehow, their set went perfectly with no snags or malfunctions. 

"Excellent, everyone!" Till shouted happily, raising his microphone in triumph. "This festival tour is going to kick everyone's asses, in a good way."

Paul and Richard hi-fived before giving each other a hug. Flake did a happy, goofy dance that made Till and Oli burst into laughter. Paul came over to his drum set and fist bumped him, with Richard, Flake, Oli and Till right behind him to do the same. They always made sure to acknowledge when their rehearsals were spot on, and tonight was extraordinarily perfect somehow. 

When Till made a fist with his hand and reached to Schneider, the drummer put on a large grin and touched the man's fist with his own. Schneider felt the tiniest twinge of heartache as he met Till's eyes, but found he was able to easily shove it aside with the positivity the rest of the band was resonating. 

This was fine. Schneider could manage this just fine. He just needed to keep up the positivty, whatever it took.


	7. After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band finishes their first festival show of the year and celebrates in their favorite way.

The first festival show went spectacularly well. Everyone loved the energy from festivals, and the after parties were things to be remembered and recovered from for several days. 

Schneider felt his body buzz as he left the stage, high on adrenaline and feedback from the massive crowd they'd played for. He grinned, clinging to the feeling like his life depended on it. 

He hugged and slapped the other band member's backs excitedly, receiving equally enthusiastic hugs and congratulations from them in return. 

Schneider adored the atmosphere after their shows. It was always electric and powerful, and never failed to make him feel wildly alive. He passed Richard who'd flopped down on a couch and was smoking with a sober look on his face. Schneider ruffled his hair when he passed by and barely heard Richard's disgruntled protests as he wound his way through the backstage corridors. Richard always took awhile to decompress or whatever it was he did right after the concerts before making his way to the after parties. Their various band management always ensured they had people ready for them when they left the stage, just waiting for their arrival to officially start the party.

Till always got there first, and Schneider grinned as he heard the various cheers and squeals of excited women when they saw him. Schneider rounded the corner and raised his hands triumphantly, earning him cheers and squeals as well. There were quite a few people there already, and Schneider knew more would be invited back as the concert crowd left for the night.

He grabbed a drink, then set it right back down as he felt his stomach lurch at the smell. Maybe no alcohol tonight. That was fine; he could still enjoy the party sober.

Schneider plastered a large smile on his face, greeting several of the women that came up to him with a hug and a photo when they asked. Till already had a sizable entourage surrounding him, and Schneider wanted to laugh at how pleased the man looked. After parties were Till's element, where he shone brightest and looked most comfortable. Onstage, he was very good at appearing comfortable and calm, but Schneider had seen for many years the bundle of nerves the man was, but had somehow become a master at hiding.

Schneider chuckled, realizing he was the exact same. He was a master at hiding his own feelings as well. Like now. He was watching as Till flirted, propositioned, and subsequently led woman after woman to a back room with him, returning with a grin that became bigger after each return.

Looking at him, no one could guess that each trip Till took to the back felt like a knife at his heart. On the outside, he continued to smile and chat pleasantly with the women and occasionally the men that continued to ask for pictures and conversation. 

Schneider wasn't quite as bold as Till, and had never openly propositioned anyone at the after parties. He'd had his fair share of hookups though, preferring instead to subtly seduce on the rare occasion that someone caught his eye. 

While no one necessarily jumped out at him, he did notice a girl who'd been on Till's arm for awhile stealing glances and smiling over at him. He'd returned the smiles, flattered even though he'd not been especially seeking anyone out. 

His interest was piqued as he watched Till openly invite her back with him, and as she agreed and followed, she looked back and met Schneider's curious gaze and winked at him.

For some reason, that turned Schneider on immediately as if a switch had been flipped. His mind went wild imagining the things Till was doing with her in the back room, and he had to put a lot of effort into holding his arousal in check. He strongly disliked anything sexual involving him being public, unless it was done jokingly or for their shows. He wasn't as shy as Oli, but he had a strong preference for certain things remaining behind closed doors.

But god was he having difficulty containing himself right now. He contemplated running off to the bathroom to take care of himself, but even he had to acknowledge how desperate that would be. He had a bit more self-respect than that.

The memory of watching Richard jerk Till off in his sleep came rushing back to him at that, as if his own brain was laughing at his claim of self-respect. He felt his face get hot from the memory, as well as the following thought of the woman with Till now.

He felt as though he'd been holding his breath the whole time they were gone, finally releasing it as he saw them return, slightly more disheveled than they'd been leaving. 

The woman immediately sought Schneider out with her eyes after a parting kiss to Till, and then made her way over to him. Schneider's pulse quickened as he watched her approach. She was certainly beautiful, but his mind was preoccupied with where on her body Till's hands, fingers, perhaps even tongue and teeth had roamed. 

When she reached for his hand, he hardly even registered his feet moving to follow her. They passed Till, who caught Schneider's gaze and looked both surprised and pleased. He grinned and gave a gesture that made Schneider blush as he and the woman rounded the corner. 

In a daze, Schneider found himself making out with her once they reached a back room and closed the door. He pulled her close, pleased with the noises she made as he did so. He pressed her to the wall, even more pleased when she pulled a condom from her purse. His mind was flooded with what Till had done with her as he pulled his pants down and rolled the condom down his length. He pressed his face to the girl's neck as he hauled up one of her legs with his hand and pulled her dress up just enough for easy access. Schneider fucked her hard, his thrusts determined and strong as his mind stayed laser focused on the man she'd just been with minutes before. He could almost swear he even smelled Till's scent on her body. 

Schneider didn't last long, his orgasm rushing up faster than expected as he gasped in time with his forceful hip jerks. The woman cried out in pleasure but Schneider barely heard her, his blissful thoughts recalling the noises Till had made when he'd finished inside Schneider. 

He stayed inside the woman for just a moment before his thoughts calmed and he came back to his senses. He looked up and was thankful the woman seemed pleased and not irritated with his speed. He smiled at her, leaning in to kiss her cheek appreciatively as he cleaned himself up a bit. 

With a kiss to his cheek in return, the girl straightened her dress and left the room, winking at him as he pulled his pants back up. 

Schneider released a shuddering breath and straightened his shirt, trying to cool his heated cheeks before returning to the party. He didn't necessarily like the idea of the whole room seeing him return freshly fucked. 

He waited another minute, just to be sure he was calmed down, and then went back to the party. No one seemed to notice his bashful return; no one that is, except Till. 

As soon as Schneider rounded the corner, strong arms grabbed him and pulled him into a tipsy hug. Schneider grinned as Till congratulated him, perhaps a bit too loudly for his comfort, but he let it slide as Till squeezed him happily. Till kissed his head with an exaggerated smack and let him go, slapping his ass as he pushed him back into the crowd. 

Schneider was a confusing combination of embarrassed and satisfied, feeling almost as though he'd cheated his determination to just be outwardly happy. He felt a crawling sense of excitement, realizing he was slowly starting to become inwardly happy as well. He didn't feel ashamed either, as he'd done nothing to or with Till.

Schneider went back over to the table filled with drinks and threw back two shots, ignoring the clenching of his stomach at the smell and taste. He slammed the glasses back onto the table, growling at the afterburn of the alcohol. Tonight was good, and he was happy.


	8. Flake's Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS IN END OF CHAPTER NOTES
> 
> Richard falls into his post-show depression and seeks Flake out to talk.

Richard's mood deflated the moment he left the stage. It always did. He had such a crazed, excited persona when he was performing, and it felt like his every nerve was on fire in the best way when he heard the crowds roaring and cheering for them. He knew he thrived on attention, but the downside to being so incredibly amped up while performing was the inevitable crash as soon as the show ended. 

He flopped down onto a couch backstage and lit up a cigarette. Till had agreed to let him smoke after their concerts, but only while the after parties were going on since he was busy then and wouldn't notice. It wasn't ideal, but Richard was thankful he at least had this time to smoke. It took the edge off of what he called his "post-show depression."

Richard had tried many things to counteract and combat this sullen, empty feeling he got after each performance. He'd tried smoking, but as was evident now, all it did was soothe any anxiety he'd had. He tried alcohol, in every amount from getting tipsy to blackout drunk. Obviously getting blacked out had the best effect for knocking out the depression, but he also consistently made an ass of himself whenever he did it, either pestering the ever loving shit out of his band mates and fans with drunken carrying on; or on rare occasions, going haywire and destroying property backstage. He didn't like getting blackout drunk anymore. 

He had even tried hard drugs for awhile and that had nearly been the death of him, he recalled with a shudder. Sure, cocaine and even heroin had been great for a time, and Richard still partook occasionally when Till came across some blow, but he would never touch anything harder than that again. He'd learned his lesson thoroughly, and nicotine was his only drug of choice anymore.

Though, granted, it wasn't doing shit for him right now. Richard felt himself sulking further as Schneider passed by with a giant grin on his face. Richard rolled his eyes in annoyance at the man's chipper mood, and felt himself jealous that he was so peppy.

Schneider reached down as he walked by and ruffled Richard's hair. Richard bristled and called out a protest to Schneider's back as he walked away. He hated when people messed with his hair, and his mood was already dismal. He shifted his position on the couch and pouted as he finished his cigarette. He crushed the butt into an ashtray and sighed, getting up to go join the afterparty. 

He put a smile on his face even though he didn't feel at all smiley; he knew how important it was for the fans to see them happy when they interacted. It wasn't their fault he felt critically depressed and spent, so he did his best not to let them in on his crushing mood. He posed for pictures, hugged lots of people, signed random items (including a woman's breasts, which brightened his mood a fair amount), and did what he considered to be his duty at the after parties: look happy and interact with fans. He felt touched when a woman had a conversation with him about how their music had helped her during a very difficult time in her life. Richard always felt humbled at those stories, and there always seemed to be so many.

This was why he kept his depression to himself: a lot of people almost certainly had it worse than him, and they deserved to enjoy their interactions with the band they idolized.

As he smiled and posed for the umpteenth time, he caught Till's eye as he watched the man lead yet another woman to a back room with him. Till winked at Richard, and he felt his depressed mood ease slightly. He might feel down after their shows, but he still had Till. That alone was enough. 

He looked across the room, noting Oli off in the corner with Flake, politely but quietly interacting with some fans. Paul was nearby, seeming to be having the time of his life laughing and taking goofy pictures with everyone that walked up to him. Paul was a ham whenever cameras were nearby and he loved interacting with fans. Schneider was off near the table of drinks, and was staring across the room. 

Richard followed his gaze and swallowed hard as he saw the man's eyes were following Till and the woman he was leading by the hand around the corner. Richard had a strong feeling Schneider wasn't focusing on Till's current womanly interest. He felt his jaw tighten as he watched Schneider watching Till. He saw the man's face redden and his feet shift, and then watched as he leaned against the wall, seemingly waiting for Till to get back.

Richard felt his blood simmer with possessive jealousy, but caught himself before he started scowling. He didn't need to bring his personal problems out in front of everyone. 

He did need to bring his problems over to Flake, though. 

He worked his way through the crowd, apologizing to people he had to push aside and promising to come back for photos and signatures later. He made it to Flake, and was a bit suprised to see him also staring over at Schneider's preoccupied face. 

"Flake," Richard began, and Flake looked down at him.

"I know," Flake said with a sigh. "Come on; I need to tell you something."

The two excused themselves from the circle of fans surrounding them, and despite Oli giving them a moderately panicked look at being left alone with so many people, they left the afterparty and walked down the dimly lit corridors backstage. They passed Till's designated party room, and Richard coughed awkwardly as the unmistakable sounds of moaning and grunting hit their ears. Flake seemed wholly unfazed by it and continued leading him out the back of the venue. 

They went out the back door and leaned back against the building, staring out at the surrounding city. Cars were meandering their way out of the parking lots and making their way back home in the night.

Flake pulled out a cigarette and lit it, handing his pack to Richard after doing so. Richard became concerned. Flake only seemed to smoke when he was feeling distressed-- truly distressed, not just exasperated in general, which happened frequently. Richard took the offered pack and pulled out a cigarette as well before handing it back. 

The two smoked in an unspoken silence for awhile. They could hear the music of other bands continuing to perform late into the night as the festival continued, but the music was muffled and distant. 

"Schneider still loves Till," Richard blurted out, unable to keep quiet anymore. 

Flake nodded, but said nothing as he took another drag.

Richard felt uncomfortable when Flake was quiet. He was the most talkative, the most grounded and seemingly most mature of the group, except maybe for Oli. When he was quiet, things seemed out of balance. 

Flake began speaking quietly, "There's a very specific reason I've been so hesitant to bring this up with Till or Schneider. Do you remember when Schneider had to pull out of those last few concerts right around the end of the Amerikan leg of the Sehnsucht tour?"

"Yes. He was very sick and had to fly back to Germany," Richard recalled. "We were all really worried with how fast it came on."

"He wasn't sick. Well, he was, but not like he said."  
Flake paused again and took another long drag before continuing, blowing the smoke upward at the darkened sky. Richard saw his hand trembling ever so slightly, and he immediately became concerned at what Flake was about to say. 

"Schneider went home because he needed time away from everyone and because he needed help. He didn't want to, but I threatened to tell everyone what happened and cancel the rest of the tour if he didn't pack up and go home to his family that next morning. I was fully prepared to follow him, too, to make sure he got help."

"Was that when Till turned him down?" Richard asked. "Did he take it that badly?"

"You could say that."  
Another pull from his cigarette, and then Flake said quietly, "He tried to kill himself."

Richard abruptly choked in the middle of his drag and coughed harshly for a minute. He finally got his breath back and he threw his cigarette to the ground.  
"Are you kidding, Flake?" he finally managed, his voice scratchy. "Please tell me this is just a dark joke."

Flake's face stayed stony and firmly set as he responded, "No. Till mentioned to me what he'd told Schneider, that he ended their sexual relationship because Schneider was too forceful with him, and he felt the aggression was seeping out in his day to day life. He didn't like that so he ended it, he said."

Flake cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow in irritation. "I really should have pressed him about it further, but I didn't. I'd seen how Schneider worshipped the very ground Till walked on, though I guess I was the only one who saw that. I knew he'd be absolutely devastated that Till not only didn't return his feelings, but hadn't even considered that Schneider loved him when he ended things."

With a sigh, Flake put his cigarette between his fingers and stared at it, then flicked it away into the night.  
"When he didn't answer his phone or the hotel door to his room, I went to the front desk to get another key and let myself in. I figured he'd drunk himself unconscious or something and wanted to make sure he was all right, maybe see if he wanted to talk if he were still awake."

Flake winced as he continued the story, avoiding Richard's eyes. His voice was detached and clinical, as it always was, but Richard saw a very heavy weight in the man's thin face despite his even tone.

"He'd tried hanging himself from the corner of the room, but he'd done a bad job of tying the belt to his neck. He was still struggling weakly and choking when I went in. He couldn't get footing anywhere to get out of the noose, and he'd turned a dark color in his face. I don't know why I froze when I saw him. Usually I'm the only one with a clear head in emergencies, but seeing him there just stuck me in place and I couldnt move. I think he finally saw me with what little consciousness he had left, because he stopped struggling and just put a hand out to me. That got me moving again, seeing him reach for me. 

"I ran over and grabbed his legs and pushed him up so he could breathe. He didn't move right away and I panicked, thinking he'd passed out. I didn't know what to do. If I let go, he'd be strangled again, but I couldn't reach up to get the noose off while I was holding him. I stood there for probably fifteen minutes, listening to him cough and gasp ragged gulps of air until I thought my arms would fall off. I think he came to then, and was able move his chin under the loosened belt loop. He slipped out of it, and his weight buckled and I fell with him onto the bed nearby. My arms hurt like hell and I couldn't stop shaking, but I rolled him over to see his face. His eyes were closed so I slapped his cheeks hard to wake him up. I have no idea if that's what I was supposed to do in that scenario because I wasn't thinking clearly. I just wanted him to be awake.

"He finally opened his eyes but his breathing was still coming in little gasps, so he couldn't speak. I fell on him and clutched him hard and started crying. I didn't know what to do. I kept thinking he'd lost oxygen to his brain and had gotten brain damage and wouldn't be able to function anymore. Just all the worst possible things kept running through my head and I couldn't do anything but hold him. 

"Eventually he pulled up his strength and put his arms around me. He still couldn't talk, but feeling him return the embrace calmed my panic. I knew he'd be okay somehow after that, and my mind cleared a bit. I drove him to a hospital and had them check him. He was all right; no lasting damage except for some bruising. When I drove him back to the hotel, I told him he had the option of either telling everyone what had happened and having us all postpone the rest of the tour to get him help, or for him to fly home and get help with his family and tell the others he was sick. He's a very proud man, so I knew which he would pick. I made sure he followed through with it by staying in touch with his family and his doctors."

Flake's chin trembled and he pulled out another cigarette.  
"That's why I'm afraid of getting involved again. I'm afraid it's going to happen again. I know that's not rational, and I know my getting involved had nothing to do with it, but it still scares me. I keep thinking if I let them be, maybe it will work out differently this time, or maybe I'm just misreading cues and he doesn't actually feel for him anymore."

Flake met Richard's gaze now, and Richard saw the unmistakable brimming of tears in Flake's normally icy blue eyes.  
"Now that you've said something and I've actually paid attention, I know it's true. I just don't know what to do."

Flake flipped his lighter open and lit his cigarette, pulling in the first drag with a shaky breath. 

Richard put a hand on Flake's shoulder, which Flake then put a hand on top of as well in acknowledgement. 

"I'm so sorry," Richard muttered. "I never knew. I had no idea."

"I know," Flake said around his cigarette. "That's how Schneider wanted it. He didn't want anyone feeling guilty or sorry for him. He may be self-centered most days, but he does care for the band. He constantly asked me for updates on how it went without him, and whether everyone were okay in his absence. Above all else, he felt ashamed that he'd been forced to abandon us during the tour."

"But he was only gone for a few shows," Richard said.

"I know, but it was a devastating amount to him. I know he must have felt such relief when he came back and everyone told him how much he'd been missed."

"We did miss him terribly."

"I think seeing that helped him more than any therapy," Flake mused. "He saw that he'd been missed, and I think that resonated with him. I just hope that memory stayed, because I think we may need to intervene at some point, or at least ask him outright what his feelings are."

Richard nodded slowly in agreement. "I guess we watch a bit more to be sure, then you can ask him if his feelings came back."

"That's the plan," Flake said as he blew more smoke at the starry sky. "I appreciate your level head in all this. I don't know the details of your and Till's relationship, but I'd hazard a guess it's not fun to see someone else pining after your partner."

Richard shrugged and said, "It suddenly became a whole lot less important to me. I guess having it in perspective like that helps."

Flake nodded as he finished his cigarette.  
"Let's get back to the party, and try to enjoy it, Richard. I know how dismal you can feel after the shows."

With a parting pat to Richard's back, Flake went back inside the venue, leaving Richard with his heavy thoughts in the cool night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING/SPOILER FOR THIS CHAPTER
> 
> Detailed description of a failed suicide attempt by hanging
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day?
> 
> (sorrysorrysorry)


	9. Three's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till invites Schneider for some fun

It had been a bit over two weeks since their festival tour had kicked off in the Netherlands, and they'd maintained their busy but rewarding schedule of playing, partying, and flying out to the next country. They were now in the UK, prepping and rehearsing for the festival show in Castle Donington. 

Schneider was consistently in a remarkably good mood these past weeks and had been playing exceptionally well at each show. He'd also been pleasantly surprised that the groupie he and Till had been with that first show had followed them to each festival. She was also seemingly quick to catch on to Schneider's "kink," having tried to come onto him before being with Till one night, and having him decline her. She'd shrugged it off and simply gone to Till instead, and was caught off guard when Schneider sought her out afterward. It must have clicked for her then, because she'd been very obvious the next few afterparties to catch Schneider's attention before going off with Till. 

He'd hungrily laid into her each time, varying from straight sex, to blowjobs, mutual masturbation, and even anal when she'd been a bit tipsy and asked for it. Schneider, still a careful man, had confirmed with her that she didn't mind the no-strings-attached sex, and she assured him she just enjoyed it as playful fun. Till had also caught on to the "kink," if it could be called that, and had made a big show of either bumping into Schneider or just simply calling out to him before taking the woman back with him. Schneider loved every bit of it, and kept his denial firmly planted in his mind, reasoning he'd been enjoying sex with *her,* not with *him.*

That came to a screeching halt after their show in England. Instead of the usual routine of seeing her flirt with Till before winking in his direction as she was led off, Till motioned for him to come over to them as they walked back. Schneider felt his throat clench, but he obeyed, curious as to what Till wanted. 

Till was silent until they had rounded several corners and were out of earshot of the afterparty. 

"Do you want to fuck her with me?" Till suddenly asked, the bluntness of the question feeling like a blow to his stomach. 

Schneider stuttered for a moment and reddened, embarassed that Till was asking in front of the woman. She simply smiled encouragingly at him and said nothing. 

"Um, is that what she asked for, or--" Schneider had to swallow in the middle of his sentence awkwardly.

"I would like that very much," she said, her eyes pleading up at Schneider.

He felt his fingers tremble, a feeling he got when he was both nervous and incredibly excited, such as right before their concerts started. He swallowed again and met Till's eyes. The bastard was grinning at him in amusement, enjoying Schneider's nervousness. 

Schneider had a moment of clarity and pulled Till aside from the woman, politely indicating he'd be just a moment.  
He whispered furtively, "Till, I don't think Richard would--"

"It's fine, Christoph," Till soothed, his voice a low rumble.   
"I spoke to him. Richard just doesn't want threesomes with you and me anymore is all. I think he gets enough between me and the groupies now."

Schneider pressed his lips together as he scrambled to think of reasons not to do it. He was coming up painfully short.

"It was just a thought, Doom. Don't feel badly about it if you don't want to." Till patted his shoulder with a smile.

As Till started to walk away, Schneider grabbed his elbow. Till turned and looked at him.

"I want to," Schneider said in a barely audible voice. Till grinned at him once more and happily grabbed around his shoulders with an arm. He kissed Schneider's temple and motioned for the woman to join them. 

Schneider flushed at the touch of Till's lips against his skin and followed in a daze as Till led both of them to a room and closed the door behind them.

Without pretext or explanation, Till sat down on a couch against the wall and pulled the woman into his lap, immediately beginning to kiss her and run his hands down her back. Watching his hands move and caress her excited Schneider, but he stayed rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Till motioned for him to come sit next to him, and Schneider obeyed without a sound. Till maneuvered the small girl so that she was sitting sideways on his lap, facing Schneider. She reached for him and began kissing him and stroking along his chest, while simultaneously grinding against Till's lap. Till's hands were firmly planted on her hips, helping guide her movements to where he wanted them with a rumble.

When Till thrust his hips up against her sharply, she moaned heavily into Schneider's mouth. He grunted at both the feeling of her moan as well as the feeling of the jolt from Till's hip thrusts. Schneider let his hands slide up the woman's slender arms, quickly becoming comfortable as he'd been with her enough times to know her body well. He cupped a hand behind her head and gripped tightly, a move she was also familiar with. She leaned closer to him as Till kept her hips firmly in place on his own. 

As Schneider became more aggressive with his kisses and bites along her lips, he heard Till fumbling with his pants next to him, and then felt him move the woman's hips slightly. She gasped against Schneider's mouth, and a slow groan from Till told Schneider he'd gone ahead and pressed inside her, pushing his hips up into her as she continued trying to kiss and grasp at Schneider. 

With a sudden burst of both arousal and determination, Schneider pushed her aside back fully into Till's lap, but facing away from him. Till continued to roll his hips slowly to fuck her, but watched Schneider with a curious interest. Schneider tried to avoid Till's gaze as he unbuttoned his own pants and pulled them down slightly. He stepped up to the front of Till and the woman, and Till growled in approval as he realized what Schneider wanted. Till nudged the woman's legs to fold up on either side of him on the couch, and then pulled her arms behind her. He held them tight against her back with one of his hands, which looked absolutely massive next to her petite ones. He bent her forward with his free hand, right down to Schneider's crotch. 

Schneider grabbed her hair roughly and yanked her head to his cock, which she pulled into her mouth greedily. Schneider groaned in pleasure as she immediately went to work, and he felt his knees go weak for a moment. He accidentally looked up, and saw Till staring at him with a wicked grin. Before Schneider could wonder what the look was for, Till snarled and pulled the woman's arms back tightly, while simultaneously bucking his hips into her, *hard.*

She cried out, or would have if she hadn't been currently deep-throating Schneider's dick. Schneider nearly staggered at the feel, his mind reeling in ecstasy. He pulled her hair tighter in his fists and pulled her head back and forth on his cock. Till quickly got into the same rhythm, and pulled her hard back onto his dick when Schneider pushed her away, then pushed her forward when Schneider yanked her head to him.

Till suddenly slid the woman off his lap and stood up behind her. He bent her forward with one hand still gripping her arms behind her and the other in an iron grip on one of her hips. He jerked his hips into her sharply and roughly, caring less to match Schneider's rhythm and focusing more on simply fucking.

Schneider was in the same mindset, yanking at her hair and pushing deeply down her throat with hard thrusts. She gasped, moaned, and gagged intermittently, enveloped in the arousal and passion among all three of them. Schneider's brow furrowed as his thrusts got stronger, and he felt himself looking back up at Till's face as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. As he met Till's heavy, lust-filled eyes, he spasmed with a white hot pang of desire, and stiffened as he began cumming down the woman's eager throat. His breath caught in sharp hitches with the throbbing, and he tried to look away, but Till's gaze was burning with lust that refused to release him. 

When he finished and released his hold on the woman's hair, Till reached forward with the hand that had been on her hip and grabbed her throat that was now free from Schneider's dick. He roughly thrust against her for another minute, his focus completely on her as he railed against her, causing her to cry out loudly in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Schneider simply stood with his pants down, staring at the two as he caught his breath.

With a loud bellow, Till yanked hard at her throat and pulled her so that her back was arched as he shoved hard and deep one final time. He held her tightly as he emptied inside her, growling as he did so. Schneider still couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

A final moan, and then Till released her. She staggered forward as she got her balance again. Schneider caught her and helped her stand. He dutifully kissed her cheek and thanked her, as he always did, but his eyes were still on Till as she returned the kiss gratefully. 

Till smirked as he lounged back against the couch, his dick softened and messy. When she went to Till, he pressed his lips to hers and murmured something in her ear that made her giggle. He gave her a towel and offered to help her clean up, but she declined with a thanks and did it herself. 

Schneider was impressed at the man's care for her, and wondered if he should be making more of an effort. But she gave him an equally sweet smile as she left after rubbing his arm thankfully.

Schneider watched her go, then reddened as Till started chuckling at him. He realized he was standing with his pants still pulled down directly in front of Till.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Till asked, grabbing a water bottle from what looked like a little stash next to the couch.

Schneider ducked his flushed face as he hurriedly pulled his pants back up, but said in a nearly embarrassed tone, "Yes."

"Good."

Till cleaned himself up, not bothering with his pants as he grabbed another bottle of water, having chugged the first in just seconds. When Schneider finished with his own pants, he barely had time to react as Till threw him a bottle of water as well. 

"You look like you need to rehydrate. Lost a lot of fluids, I'd wager," he teased with a wink. 

Schneider blushed again, amazed at how this one person could control his bodily reactions with just a few words.  
"Thanks," he muttered before taking a long drink. 

"Did you want to go again? Another woman has already asked me."

Schneider shook his head quickly, afraid he wouldn't be able to finish as quickly this time around. On top of that, he didn't need the added stress of "performing" in front of Till. That was a recipe for an embarrassment and inability to finish.

"I think I'm good for the night," he said, heading to the door.

He stopped before closing the door behind him and looked back at Till, still lazily sprawled across the couch, still pants-less.   
"Thank you, though. I did enjoy myself." 

He couldn't help himself as he stole another quick look at Till's manhood before leaving, Till's hearty laughter following him as the man caught the furtive look. Schneider's blush stayed, much to his embarrassment as he left the room.


	10. Green Eyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MILD TRIGGER WARNING:  
> Brief mention of past suicide attempt
> 
> Richard makes a new friend, who comes along at a very good time

Richard rubbed his temples with one hand, his other wrapped around a mixed drink he was nursing. The afterparty had dwindled a bit, leaving only a handful of fans chatting and seeking out the various band members to talk to and get pictures with. He was enjoying a moment of quiet on a couch before the next group of people inevitably came over to him.

In bed the evening before, Till had broached the subject of a threesome involving a groupie that had apparently taken a shining to Till. Richard had recalled seeing the two together at the after parties occasionally, but as he'd done his best to keep to himself after Flake's latest revelation, that was the extent of his awareness of the two. He had declined Till's offer, telling him he disliked threesomes with a single woman involved.

It was mostly a true statement. He preferred men if he were going to enjoy more than one person at a time; though he'd certainly had his share of threesomes with himself and two women in the past, and those had always been a delight.

His real issue was joining Till with someone else he didn't know. It didn't sound like an enjoyable thing to him. Plus, a nagging voice in the back of his head noted that Schneider would be sure to see the two of them and the groupie if they did something like that, and he wasn't sure he wanted the stress of worrying about Schneider's potential jealousy. He'd seen that particular woman with Schneider as well, and didn't want to appear intrusive either.

Till had kissed Richard's forehead and pulled him close, saying that was just fine. He preferred Richard all to himself anyway, he reasoned, reaffirming the statement by locking him into a hug that Richard was unable to struggle free of, while Till laughed happily. 

Back in the present, Richard rolled his eyes but smiled at the thought. Till meant nothing but good, and even took rejection from him better than he'd ever expected. 

A stunning woman suddenly approached him, somewhat shyly, asking in broken German for his autograph. Richard felt touched that she was making such an effort to speak to him in his own language, and as he signed her album, asked her what her native language was. 

"English," she said, her face becoming a cute shade of nervous pink. 

Richard grinned as he finished the signature and said, switching to English, "That's fantastic! I like to think I speak very good English."

He continued the conversation enthusiastically, inquiring about her heritage, how she encountered Rammstein, and the like. Richard was being polite and friendly as he always was to fans, but felt himself opening himself a bit more to her as they continied to chat. She was remarkably friendly and seemingly intelligent, asking questions a bit more in-depth than the usual "how do you like performing?" and so on. Though shy, she kept up the conversation well, her eyes showing nothing but clear fascination at his answers.

She was also quite beautiful, Richard noted with mounting interest. She was trim, but not overly tiny, curvy in all the right places, had medium length dark hair with a shocking streak of blonde on one side. Her eyes were bright, and green it seemed in the dim light of the room. Her smile, though still a bit nervous and shy, was full and genuine. Richard sensed none of the artificial interest that most fans exuded. 

Richard felt himself relaxing happily. It was always flattering when someone so attractive showed genuine interest in him as a person, not just as a celebrity; and she seemed to be interested in that way, judging by the conversation. 

Richard suddenly saw Till giving him a wave as he took his familiar groupie to the back, and Richard smiled as he waved in return. Till always did that, as if letting Richard know where he was going and what he was doing, and Richard found it quite cute. 

He was in the middle of answering the woman's next question about his early musical influences when he noticed Till waving Schneider to he and the groupie, and then watched as all three left the party together. Richard felt a cold wave of anxiety wash over him and he blanched, forgetting what he was saying.

"Um, I'm sorry," he apologized, quickly turning back to the woman. He was ashamed he'd gotten distracted like that in front of her, right in the middle of a conversation.  
"What was I saying?"

She waved her hand and smiled, saying apologetically, "Don't worry. It was a bit of a boring one anyhow. I should be apologizing for it, to be honest. I'm sure you get that question all the time."

Desperate to keep his mind engaged in the present, lest he fall into a worried anxiousness, he focused intently on the woman.  
"What could we discuss that would interest you more?" he offered.

One of the woman's dark eyebrows raised a bit and she smiled.  
"That depends on where your mind is going, Mister Kruspe."

Richard felt himself blush, suddenly realizing he'd accidentally phrased the question in such a way as to be suggestive, which she had apparently picked right up on.

"Oh, well, I didn't exactly mean--"

The woman laughed and interrupted him, "It's fine, Richard. I was teasing. You don't even know my name yet; I'm not expecting you to haul me to a back room before getting my name, at the very least."

Richard blushed deeper, but smiled. She was quite charming, and he felt himself becoming more and more at ease around her, as she apparently was also doing with him.

"What's your name?" he asked, scooting his formerly lounging frame over to make room for her on the couch next to him. She took his outstretched hand and did a little curtsey before sitting down next to him.

"I'm Kayleigh," she said with a small smile. "But feel free to call me Kay, if you like."

Richard stuck out his hand in an awkward, goofy way to her.  
"Pleased to meet you, Kayleigh. I'm Richard ZK. You can feel free to call me Richard, RZK, Rich if you're feeling bold, and I also have been known to answer to asshole, dick, douchebag, or arshloch if the person is german and part of the band Rammstein."

Kayleigh laughed at his terrible joke, and it warmed Richard's insides. It had been a very long time since he'd been this friendly with a woman, and he realized he'd missed it. He laughed along with her and began asking her questions about herself and her past, thoroughly enjoying the genuine conversation. For a few minutes, he felt normal and happy, leaving his "post-show depression" behind.

Regrettably, he started feeling the press of alcohol in his bladder. He apologized and excused himself for just a moment, making Kayleigh promise to stay until he returned. 

Richard smiled foolishly when she promised and folded her hands properly to wait on him. 

He walked back through the hallway with the grin still firmly planted on his face. He brushed past Till's familiar groupie friend, and he smiled and greeted her as he passed. She inclined her head with a smile in greeting as she walked by. He assumed based on her mussed hair and cheeky smile that Till had just finished his fun with her. Richard wanted to shake his head again at the man's stamina. It truly seemed to be endless.

As he rounded the last corner to get to the bathroom, Richard ran face-first into Schneider as the man was leaving one of the rooms. He nearly tripped as he tried to step back hurriedly, but Schneider caught him.

"Shit, sorry Doom."

"No worries," Schneider said, turning his back to Richard hurriedly. His voice was a bit more gruff and quiet than usual, Richard noted. 

Richard paused his walk, a bit concerned.  
"You ok?" he asked.

Schneider turned his head back to face him. Richard saw his face was flushed and sweaty and he was breathing quite heavily.  
A cough from inside the room, one Richard knew quite well, pulled the last puzzle piece into place. 

"Oh," Richard said with an embarrassed realization. "Uh, well, I hope you have a good rest of your evening?" 

Schneider chuckled at Richard's flustered statement that came off more like a question.  
"Thanks. You too."

Schneider walked back to the afterparty and left Richard with his stunned thoughts. It hadn't in a million years occured to him that turning Till's threesome proposition down would result in him then going to ask Schneider, much less that Schneider would accept something like that. 

A pang of jealous indignation hit Richard in his stomach, and part of him wanted to kick the door in and demand to know why he'd invited Schneider to join him. Just as quickly, the desire faded when he remembered Flake's tearful recalling of Schneider hanging from his hotel room. Richard felt an immediate guilt at his jealousy. As far as he knew, Schneider simply had sex with the woman while Till watched. It was wrong of him to assume the worst, and even more wrong of him to be so jealous so immediately. 

Still, the angry jealousy gnawed at him, and he wanted more than anything to confront Till and tell him everything. He only wrestled with the feeling for a moment more, and then he saw another woman wave to him shyly before entering the door Schneider had exited a minute before. Richard didn't wait to hear anything more and he finished his trek to the bathroom. 

He returned to Kayleigh with the remnants of his mixed guilty jealousy pushed down as far as he could manage. He'd decided, somewhat abruptly, that he wanted to get laid tonight. Richard had freshened up as well as he could in the bathroom and put his most charming smile on as he sat back down with her. 

She welcomed him back, though her eyes seemed to be searching his face for something. Richard chose to believe she was searching for him to make a move, and he was suddenly very willing to oblige. 

Richard didn't necessarily have a signature move as far as his sexual advances were concerned, but he had yet to fail to make a woman swoon. He just needed to be creative and read them properly.

He took a deep breath, then gave her an encouraging smile as he reached forward, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Kayleigh smiled at that, and Richard knew he'd made the right move. He let his hand linger on her cheek, brushing his thumb lightly down her jaw. She drew her eyes up to meet his, and he saw not a trace of hesitation in them. She radiated confidence, and it made her all the more attractive to him.

He opened his hand a bit and held her face, ever so gently moving her face to his, while still leaving the opportunity for her to pull back if she didn't want it.

She leaned forward and kissed him before he could even think any further. It shocked him, but immediately switched from shock to excitement. He sighed lightly through his nose, gently pressing their lips in a blossoming first kiss. 

He pulled back, exceptionally pleased to see the shine in Kayleigh's eyes. This was good. He needed to go for it, his mind and body screamed at him. It would keep him happy tonight, and that's what he needed.

"Would you like to come back to my hotel with me?" Richard asked in a low murmur, his face close to her ear. 

She giggled, and Richard leaned back to study her face hopefully. 

Kayleigh smiled and tucked a strand of his own hair behind his ear. He turned and kissed at her hand before she moved it from his head, causing her to smile even more broadly at him.

"I think," she began in a very deliberate voice, "that I would like to wait a bit."

Richard's heart fell instantly, and though he tried to keep his face neutral, Kayleigh gave him an apologetic look.

"I think I really like you, even from what little we've talked so far. I don't want to mess that up by sleeping with you the first time I meet you."

Richard swallowed, but couldn't think of anything to say. He'd never been outright denied before, and he didn't know how to respond. 

Kayleigh looked almost heartbroken herself, and reached forward to stroke his hair gently again. 

"I understand if that means we're done, but I'll be at the next few festivals you play, and, well…" 

Her bright green eyes shone hopefully up at his.  
"I would love to see you again, if you like."

Richard felt numb, and barely registered himself nodding to her. It was like he was on autopilot, giving a groupie his practiced speech once they'd gotten to know each other.

"Of course," Richard said in a bit of a monotone voice. He reached across to the table next to the couch and grabbed a napkin. "This is my email. Feel free to write whenever you like. I'll be sure you have the best tickets for the festival and backstage access as well, of course." He gave the napkin to Kayleigh, feeling himself immediately detaching from the situation.

Kayleigh looked immensely hurt, and it occurred to Richard that he'd just treated her like a disappointing lay, placating her with tickets and a backstage pass. He wanted to kick himself, and furthermore, he didn't want to lose the one person he'd had the first genuinely pleasant conversation with in weeks.

"Actually," he amended, grabbing the napkin back and scribbling on it some more. "Here. My phone number. I would like it very much if you called me." 

Richard gave back the napkin and placed it in her hand, pressing her fingers closed around it.  
"I really enjoyed talking to you," he continued, meeting her eyes with a sincere gaze. "I really want to see you again."

Kayleigh gave another soft smile, then said, "If you're doing this because you're polite, or because you just don't want me to feel bad, that's a very "arshloch" thing to do."

Richard felt himself grinning at the joke, and he was thankful he'd chosen to see her again.  
"I promise that's not the reason," he assured. "I'm quite well known for being impolite." 

Kayleigh laughed, and the two stood up and hugged.

"I have to fly out tonight, but I'll see you in Germany, yeah?"

Richard took her hand in his and kissed it. "I'll be there."

Kayleigh did another little curtsey that Richard found outrageously sweet, and then left the party. 

Richard watched her go, somehow already missing her.  
He felt a nudge at his back.

"She's gorgeous," Paul said, waggling his eyebrows next to Richard. 

Richard elbowed him hard, a blush creeping into his cheeks.  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, grabbing another drink from a nearby table.

Paul shrugged and walked away, grinning devilishly as he left. 

Richard was left with his thoughts, which were suddenly filled with the sight of Till and Schneider laughing together across the room with the few remaining people in the party. 

Richard felt his happiness drain, replaced by the increasingly familiar sense of anxiety, depression, and creeping jealousy. He sighed, resigned to feeling shitty for the rest of the night as he had nothing left to distract him. He left the party and returned to their hotel, drinking a few shots of Till's whiskey to help himself to sleep.

\---------

"Rich? Richard, scholle."

Insistent nuzzling and his name being repeated into his ear pulled Richard from a very groggy sleep.

"What?" he said blearily, trying to push Till away from him so he could breathe. He felt smothered under Till's embrace. 

"I need some affection from my lover," Till said, insistently pulling Richard to him. 

Richard grunted, slowly waking up and feeling very far from loving. His last emotions before he'd fallen asleep had been sour and unpleasant, burdening his heart with the worst dredges of his depression. Sleep had been his escape, and now he was pissy it had been interrupted. 

Till must have felt his tension, because he eased his hold and switched to massaging the muscles along Richard's neck and shoulders. 

As much as he wanted to maintain his irritation, Till was good with his hands, and Richard felt his mood soften along with his tightened muscles. 

He sighed, and allowed himself to ease back into Till's grasp. Till petted along his head, stroking his hair fondly and pressing kisses on the top of his head in between strokes. 

"What made you so upset, Rich? Is everything ok?"

A more loaded question there had never been, Richard thought to himself. 

"I'm just tired," he sighed, pressing back into Till's chest. "I need a night off from partying."

He felt Till nod, but sensed he wasn't satisfied with his answer. "Partying can be tiresome, I know," Till agreed. 

"Could have fooled me," Richard muttered, and he felt Till tense a bit at his insinuation. 

"Are you angry at me?" Till asked, a bit more quietly.

Richard sighed and shook his head.

"Are you angry at someone else?"

Richard shook his head again, knowing he was being rather childish but was too tired and overall irked to care.

Till was quiet for a minute, just holding Richard. He pressed his forehead to Richard's head and asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Richard thought on that one. Was there? Would he feel better by asking Till not to fool around with Schneider anymore, or by having him share the burden of knowing Schneider had tried to kill himself because of unrequited love? 

He knew the answers, of course. So he continued to bite his tongue and push his negative feelings down as far as he could.

Richard turned and tightly hugged Till's chest, pressing his ear to his skin to hear the comforting, heavy heartbeat. The solid rhythm soothed him, and started lulling him into forgetting his anxieties.

Till returned to stroking his hair, releasing a low, pleased rumble that echoed loudly in Richard's ear. He squeezed Till, almost convinced if he held him tightly enough, everything would be fine. The two fell asleep holding one another, both silently wishing for the night to pull away their negative thoughts and give them a few hours of respite.


	11. Waking up on Different Sides of the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till and Richard wake up pleasantly, while Schneider, not so much.

Till had attempted to comfort Richard the night before, but he felt clumsy and awkward emotionally. He had no idea why Richard had been so upset, as he normally loved being woken up to cuddle at night. Till had asked what was wrong, as a dutiful partner should, but knew Richard was holding back with his answers. The problem was, Till was worried about pressing him. 

Deep down, Till had his suspicions as to why Richard was upset, which then brought up the issue of Till simply not wanting to ask the hard questions. He might be a bit slower than most when it came to processing and understanding other people's emotions, but he wasnt stupid. Though he'd never felt it himself, he'd seen many examples of how jealousy looked on other people, and it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Richard was feeling it. 

But apart from that and the discomfort Till felt when he considered that Richard might be jealous, what he feared even more than that was that Richard was feeling something he couldn't understand at all. What kind of partner would he be if he couldn't ask his lover what was wrong, and then be able to understand and help him with it? If it were jealousy, Till only had other people being jealous as his frame of reference, and it was always an ugly affair. Past girlfriends, other friends in their own love lives, jealousy popped up so frequently that it made Till feel as though he were broken by being unable to feel it. 

So far, Richard hadn't been with anyone else since settling into a relationship with him, but Till felt nothing when picturing him sleeping with other people, just as he felt no negative emotions when sharing his familiar groupie with Christoph. It simply didn't register for him. 

He grimaced and rolled over to face Richard's smooth back. It was very early, far earlier than Till normally woke up. Richard was usually the first to get up, and he often snuggled Till until he also got up.

Till thought about stroking Richard until he woke, but decided against it. He'd been pissy last night at being woken up, so Till figured he'd let the man sleep. 

A buzz on the nightstand from Richard's phone made the smaller man stir, but not wake. Till reached over and grabbed the phone, intending to shut it off to give Richard a peaceful rest. The number across the screen was unknown, and it piqued Till's interest as it was a german number. He unlocked the phone, having previously been given permission by Richard to use it whenever he liked as Till was constantly misplacing his own phone. 

Till thumbed up into the messaging app and read a brief text from the unknown number. 

"Hey arshloch, I made it back to Germany. Thanks for the opportunity to sit and talk last night. I hope your time between shows is enjoyable, and I look forward to seeing you in Scheeßel. -Kayleigh."

Till snorted a laugh at the flirty message and felt excitement surge inside him. Richard had met a woman! And, apparently, a feisty one. Till felt himself approving of her already. Anyone who called Richard arshloch after one meeting was just fine in his book. 

So that was why he'd been so distant last night. Poor little scholle still didn't know what to do with more than one individual who wanted him, just like with Schneider. Till felt a chuckle rising in him at the cute thought of Richard flustered by the attentions of two different people.

Perhaps it had been Richard worrying about *Till* getting jealous, he mused. What a sweet one Richard was. Till pressed a loud, forceful kiss against the sleeping man's head, earning him an irritated grunt as Richard began to wake up. Till placed the man's phone back on the side table and started kissing and snuggling him in earnest, deciding he'd slept long enough. Now was time to cuddle, and celebrate this woman Richard had apparently found interesting enough to give his number to.

"Till, it's too fucking early," Richard mumbled, burying his face into the pillows. 

"Nein, little Cassanova. It's time for you to reply to this "Kayleigh" who wants to speak to you."

Richard shot up at that and furrowed his sleepy brows at Till in confusion.   
"What? How do you know about her?"

Till gestured to Richard's phone, thoroughly amused.  
"She texted you. I like her already."

Richard's ears turned pink as he leaned over to grab his phone and flip through his messages. A half smile quirked onto his face as he read her text, and Till beamed proudly at him. 

"Well? What's she like? Tell me everything," Till encouraged, pulling Richard into a soft hug as he tapped a reply text.

"Well, there's not much to tell yet, really. She introduced herself at the afterparty, we talked--"

"Did you fuck?"

Till smiled against Richard's neck as he felt the smaller man blush. His neck always got so hot when he was embarassed.

"No, not yet," Richard admitted.

"Didn't get the nerve up to ask her? That's okay. You should take your time. It sounds like she's pretty interested."

"Well, that's not exactly it," Richard tried squirming away but Till nipped at his ear and held him tightly. He wasn't going anywhere until he satisfied Till's curiosity.

"Not exactly what? Did you just get a blowjob or something?"

"No, not that either. I, well... I asked, but she said no."

Till felt suddenly indignant. How dare someone turn his Richard down. What was wrong with her?

"Is she fucking blind?" Till demanded. "Because that's the only way I could see someone telling you "no" to sex."

"That wasnt how it went at all, Till. She didn't really say "no," I guess. She just said, "not yet."

Befuddlement hit Till. He had never experienced anyone tell him they'd rather wait to have sex before. Plenty had told him no, and the majority told him yes, but none had ever insisted on waiting. He became instantly suspicious. 

"Why did she want to wait?" 

Richard shrugged and said, "She told me she liked me, and didn't want to mess anything up by sleeping with me the first time she met me."

"That sounds like bullshit."

"Look, Till, just because you've never waited to have sex doesn't mean it never happens. She was a legitimately intriguing person. I don't think I've ever met a woman like her before."

Till was having very strong doubts about the situation, but seeing Richard look hopeful made him grumble in concession. 

"I suppose," he said, drawing out the word as he ran his thumb along the back of Richard's neck thoughtfully. "It just seems a strange way to get to know someone, by not getting to know them intimately. Did you intimidate her or something?"

"No, it was sort of the opposite."

Till smirked. "She intimidated you?"

"No," Richard said, rolling his eyes. "She was just very confident and sure of herself. She truly wanted to wait and see me again before we slept together. She wants to get to know me better."

Till hmphed, but didn't protest further. Richard seemed pleased, or at least content, and that was what mattered. Till kissed his ear and squeezed him close. 

"Just don't forget about me in the midst of your newfound womanly desires," he rumbled teasingly, his fingers creeping around to Richard's front and playing with the waistband of his pajama pants.

"No sir," Richard said forcefully, removing Till's hands and placing them on the bed. "You woke me up at an ungodly hour last night for no good reason. No morning sex for you."

Till harrumphed and tried to kiss at Richard's ear again playfully, but was pleasantly suprised that Richard had the same idea, meeting his lips accidentally as he turned to kiss at Till's face. 

The two laughed at themselves and hugged each other, happy that their day had started so positively together.

\--------------

Schneider's day had started significantly less positively. He'd awoken from a stimulating dream that he tried to keep out of his waking mind, but the stiffness between his legs refused to let it be pushed aside so easily. 

With an irritated but muffled curse, Schneider got up from his hotel bad and went to take a shower. He refused to allow his body to make decisions for him, and in protest, made a pact not to touch himself to thoughts of Till, regardless of his dreams or otherwise. Schneider needed to get his shit together, and being constantly distracted by his *not obsession* with Till was getting tiresome. He could have fun with him at the parties, and that was where it would stay. That was a perfectly reasonable and acceptable way to work out his fantasies. 

That's what he'd taken to calling his desire for Till: just fantasies. It confined it to a sexual aspect only, and kept it in a nice, neat little package that was easy to define and sounded both appropriate and reasonable. He felt immensely less ashamed when he thought of it that way, and even though the tiniest part of him knew better, this would work out just fine.

He stood impatiently and waited for himself to soften in the shower. "Just fine" would be a whole lot easier to obtain if he weren't plagued by dreams of being topped by that man again, feeling the burly man's chest against his back with his hand grabbing Schneider's jaw when he came, his deep voice bellowing his name…

Schneider abruptly flipped the shower's water handle to cold and hissed as the hot water switched to icy droplets pelting against his skin. His arousal quickly dropped under the freezing water and he sighed in relief. It was an old adage, but cold water really did wonders for halting hot blooded thoughts. 

He finished his shower without distraction and, still shivering from the frigid water, dressed to spend some time out as the band was going around town for the day before flying back to Germany in the evening. If he remembered correctly, Till had an appointment to get his cast off tomorrow. 

Schneider looked himself over in the mirror and was surprised once again at his figure with his hair short. He was very trim, wearing a thin black shirt with a black leather jacket, dark jeans that hugged the curves of his legs tightly without being too much like "skinny" jeans, and a pair of looser fitting boots that would be comfortable to walk around in. He'd done just a touch of makeup, mainly a bit of eyeliner, loving how the dark tone brought out the brightness of his eyes. His hair was his now usual style of bangs brushed lightly to the side, and he nodded in approval. He looked good.

\----------

Schneider trotted out toward the breakfast bar of the hotel and was greeted by Flake's exasperated voice as he drew near

"--why I don't think he's changed. It's the same pattern that I saw before: he gets mixed up with him sexually and then gets his heart broken. I just don't want it to happen all over with Till being left just as clueless as last time while Schneider's left broken again."

Schneider felt his blood go cold as he listened to Flake speak.

Before he could think of what to do, he saw Till exiting the elevator, raising a hand in greeting to him.

Schneider cleared his throat overly loudly and said, "Till, guten morgen."

Flake flinched and dropped the pastry he'd been holding at hearing Schneider's voice behind him. Schneider walked up to the table with Till a bit further behind him.

Guilty looks were scattered across everyone's faces, and Schneider's terse look on his own face let them all knew he'd heard everything. 

"Why's everyone looking so down?" Till asked lightly, grabbing a fork and placing it down his cast. "Breakfast that bad?" Paul forced a chuckle but the rest of the band was quiet, averting their eyes and busying themselves with eating. 

Schneider pressed his lips into a thin smile as he patted Flake on the back, a bit too hard.   
"Guten morgen," he greeted coolly. 

Flake looked up at him, a bit worried and a lot guilty, and didn't respond except to hang his head. 

"Flake, it's beautiful outside. Let's go for a walk."

Schneider hauled Flake up by his arm and dragged him out the front lobby doors along with him. Till had already gone to get food from the bar and missed the heavy silence that sat at the table among Oli, Paul and Richard as they guiltily ate their food. They hoped Schneider wasn't too upset.


	12. Walk and Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider and Flake have a chat

Schneider roughly pushed Flake out the front doors of the hotel, causing him to stumble down the two stairs leading out to the sidewalk. 

"Schneider--" Flake began, but was cut off with a shove as Schneider pushed him forward.

"Walk," Schneider demanded, another shove propelling Flake onward. 

"I'm not a dog, Schneider," Flake quipped, his irritation finally overcoming his guilt. "I'll walk without your prodding."

"You can also apparently run your mouth without my prodding either," Schneider bit back. "So? Go ahead, keep talking. I'm extremely curious as to why my personal life has suddenly become a vested interest of the whole band."

Flake didn't immediately say anything, which angered Schneider further.

"Cat got your tongue now, when someone actually wants you to speak? Why the fuck were you talking about me and Till to everyone else?"

"I accidentally said something when I was drunk," Flake muttered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he shuffled along the sidewalk. 

"I can't hear you," Schneider said. "Speak up like you did in the hotel so the whole breakfast bar could hear you."

Flake's whole body flushed in shame. He knew he deserved Schneider's anger, but it still stung.

"I got drunk and talked about your relationship with Till."

"What did you tell them?"

Flake cleared this throat and continued looking at the ground. "I said you loved Till."

Flake heard Schneider's snarl a moment before the man's hand slapped upside the back of Flake's head. Flake staggered forward a bit, stunned but not hurt from the blow. He grabbed his head with a hand, again more from shock than pain and looked over at Schneider. The man was stomping around, kicking at random pebbles and cobblestones around him angrily. Flake said nothing, knowing he well deserved the slap too.

"Fuck," Schneider spat, finally turning to face Flake. The man had blue fire in his eyes, and had it been anyone else but Schneider, Flake might have been afraid at the rage he saw.

"So they all think I love him now?" Schneider demanded. "Did you tell them everything?"

"No. I just said you'd had a thing for him since we made the Sehnsucht album, after I was sober, that is. I guess when I was drunk I just blabbered that you liked him."

The fire in Schneider's eyes dimmed slightly at that, and Flake felt some tension ease from his own body.  
"So they don't know about the whole…"  
Schneider let the sentence fade with a vague wave of his hand.

Flake understood, and shook his head, deciding it would be a very bad idea to admit he'd told Richard about Schneider's suicide attempt.  
"No."

Schneider sighed and rubbed his short hair with a hand in irritation.  
"So why were you all discussing us now?"

Flake took a deep breath and said, "We were concerned that you had fallen for Till again. It sort of looks like--"

"What it looks like and what it is are two things that can be very different, Flake," Schneider said through gritted teeth.  
"I don't suppose it occurred to you to perhaps ask me about it instead of chattering behind my back like school girls?"

Again, Flake accepted the biting comment as deserved.  
"I was afraid," Flake said simply.

Schneider's brow furrowed as he turned to look at his friend.  
"Why the hell were *you* afraid? You're not afraid of anything, much less of me." Schneider's voice had softened, his anger falling into a sort of irked resignation instead.

Flake shrugged. "I was scared of losing you. I didn't want what happened before to happen again, so I was trying to figure out what to do. I needed to know whether it was the same as before or not so I didn't go bursting into your emotional life unnecessarily. That's why we were talking."

The man's straightforward words hit Schneider hard. He understood Flake's meanings in the phrases "what happened before" and "the same as before." He winced a bit at the painful memories around that time but easily shoved them aside as he'd done for years.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know none of that is the case," Schneider muttered, picking up the pace a bit as he walked down the sidewalk. "I don't love him and I'm not suicidal. And before you ask, as far as sex is concerned, he's giving me a nice rebound with women at the after parties, but that's where it stops between us."

Flake said nothing, and Schneider hoped his explanation was clear and direct enough for Flake's concern. 

"I'm sorry I said all of that," Flake offered. "It's been a long time since I drank that much."

Schneider threw one of his hands out in an dismissive motion. "Doesn't matter anymore, so long as you go back and set it straight."

"Doom, are you sure you're okay?"

Flake's concern pulled Schneider's gaze from the cobblestones, and he looked up at Flake's face. His glasses were smudged, as always, and his face looked more taut than usual. Maybe he truly had been worried for him.

"I'm fine," Schneider said flatly. "The breakup hit me harder than I expected it to, but I like the rebound process. It keeps me busy and it's fun. That's all."

Flake nodded slowly in response. He seemed ever so slightly skeptical, but Schneider knew he'd accept the explanation. His guilt would force him to.

"Good. Now let's go back to the hotel so I can eat and you can set the record straight. And for God's sake, don't let Till hear about that nonsense, please? He's got enough on his plate with Richard right now."

"You're not wrong there," Flake agreed as they turned around to return to the hotel. 

"If anyone needs to be talked to about their relationship, I'd hazard a guess it's them. Till isn't well known for his emotional perception."

Flake rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses set and sighed. "You're telling me as if I were not already painfully aware, Christoph."

Schneider chuckled and said, "Yes, I suppose you'd know better than anyone, of course."

"Of course. It has been awhile since we've chatted about that, though I'm not sure whether it's because they're fine or we've just been busy. Regardless it doesn't hurt to check in, I suppose."

The two then walked in silence back to the hotel, and once they'd gotten back, Flake looked st Schneider once more.

"You're sure you're fine?"

Schneider met Flake's concern with an evenly cool gaze.  
"I'm sure."

Flake nodded.  
"All right then. I'll set everyone at ease and make sure our resident emotional stone is doing all right as well."

Schneider awkwardly set a hand on Flake's shoulder and averted his eyes as he said, quietly, "Thank you again, Flake."

Flake sniffed, and said, "Nothing at all to thank for, but you're welcome." 

A smile quirked at Schneider's mouth at the so very Flake-ish response as they walked back into the hotel.

\--------------

The table looked as though it had collectively been holding its breath when Schneider and Flake stepped back into the hotel, and released it in relief as they saw the two enter.

"Have a nice walk?" Till quipped, making good last use of his fork-holding-cast. He knew the two had needed a talk or something, but wasn't bothered by it unless Flake offered to tell him specifically what it had been about.

"It was quite pleasant, yes," Flake said, sitting back down and continuing to eat, also unbothered. Oli, Paul, and Richard nodded in silent recognition of Flake's dismissal of their concern, and they knew better than to bring up their earlier conversation again. If Flake was moving on, it was fine. He also appeared to still have all of his teeth, so their talk couldn't have gone *that* badly.

"What should we do today?" Till asked past a mouthful of food. "We have a lot of time to kill before the flight tonight. 

"What about a museum?" Oli offered. 

Flake nodded and said, looking at his phone, "There's a few nearby, one with old aircraft and then an art museum. We could stop by both if we wanted."

"Sounds nice," Richard added and Paul nodded in agreement.

"It's settled, then," Till announced. "Let's pack up and go enjoy some culture."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the seemingly brief chapter. Schneider is being extremely dismissive, and I wanted it to seem a bit rushed, or brusque, as he's attempting to not think about this as much as possible. Therefore, he rushes through Flake's explanation and moves on very quickly from it. 
> 
> There will be more in depth talks later, don't you worry <3


	13. Museum Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band tours a few museums to kill time on their last day in England before flying back to Germany.

Flake had pored meticulously around each of the restored aircraft in a painfully slow way. While the rest of the band had perused and appreciated them in a timely manner and made their way quickly through the dusty hangar, Flake had to be nearly dragged from aircraft to aircraft so they could progress with the tour. 

His ceaseless questions exasperated their tour guide to the point of making him leave, claiming he needed to take his lunch break already, at 10 in the morning. The band was fine moving on their own, though, and once they'd pushed Flake along, they got through the aviation museum in a bit under an hour and a half. 

Still having plenty of time to kill, the group decided to visit one more museum, an art museum this time. Flake would have a much easier venture there without having to be dragged through that one, they reasoned.

They wandered into the second museum and took their time enjoying it. Oli was found staring deep into the paintings while Flake enjoyed comparing sculptures; Schneider yawned a bit as he perused the miniatures and models; Paul was entranced by a 3D exhibit; and Till and Richard meandered their way through a hydroponics garden before wandering back to the paintings.

Till was a bit distracted by, well, Richard's distraction. Every few minutes, Richard had his phone out, smirking or stifling laughter as he texted, presumably with Kayleigh. Till frowned, feeling a bit miffed that, as he'd paid for Richard's ticket to the museum, this was supposed to be more of a date for them. But he shrugged off the irritation quickly, deciding that as long as Richard were having fun, that's all that mattered.

He nudged Richard in the side, stifling a chuckle as they passed by some particularly erotic artwork. Richard sighed and rolled his eyes, but chuckled as well, earning a satisfied grin from Till. They had the humor of grade school boys, but at least they could share the humor between themselves.

Till went to poke Richard again over another suggestive piece, but found he'd wandered off, again smiling at his phone. Till was indignant, and felt irritation mixed with an unpleasant sensation in his gut. 

He frowned, unhappy but not able to directly pinpoint why. Richard seemed happy; why wasn't *he* happy? He mulled it over as he looked at an odd painting of a particularly fat woman. 

Why did he feel so badly? He didn't like this irritation for seemingly no reason. He hadn't even met this woman Richard was seeing-- could it really even be called "seeing" her if they'd only been talking for a day or two? He barely even knew her. That was the real problem, Till decided. Richard was falling for someone he didn't know, and the chances were very high that she didn't want Richard for who he was; she probably wanted him for what he could offer. 

Till bristled at that thought. He knew the kinds of women Richard had a penchant for, and the things those women in turn had a penchant for: his money and his status. They were always the same, the ones he ended up with. Poor guy wasn't capable of picking the good ones who just wanted a fun lay with a rockstar. Either that or Richard's feelings ended up getting involved. Till felt pained at the thought of Richard's vindictive ex, and it served to make him even more anxious now as he looked over to see Richard in the middle of a particularly long, giggly text message. 

Till narrowed his eyes, then glanced around until he found what he was looking for. He stalked up behind Richard, hooked two fingers through his belt, and yanked. 

Richard protested, but Till hushed him as he pulled the man along with him around a corner and into a nearby bathroom. Till plucked the phone from Richard's hands and pressed him against the far wall near the hand dryers.

"Till, what the hell--" Richard began, but Till smothered his exclamation with his mouth and tongue forcefully pressed against him as he pocketed Richard's phone. Richard tried to push him away, but Till was quite forceful. He needed to remind Richard that he was *here,* unlike the woman he had been busy chatting up. He needed his boyfriend's attention. 

Richard's weakened protesting became even weaker as Till hauled his body flush with his own and started moaning in his ear. Richard shivered and ducked his head, mumbling one final time for Till to knock it off, which Till promptly ignored. He flipped Richard around and pushed him up against the back wall of the bathroom. The museum had been empty when they'd arrived, so Till had no worry about there being any unwelcome visitors in the bathroom. Still, just to be safe…

He reached over and flipped the lock on the main door by the sinks. The stalls behind them were quiet, and the only sound filling the room was their increasingly labored breathing. Till wasted no time, nipping along the back of Richard's neck on his hairline as he reached around to undo the man's belt, pressing him tightly to the wall with his hips. Richard released a long sigh, laced with a heavy moan that made Till want to purr in approval. He'd won his boyfriend's attention back, and that pleased him greatly. 

Till finished unbuckling Richard's pants, and he slowly reached in to free his thickening cock. Till lightly tickled his fingertips along the length, satisfied when he felt it throb under his touch. Richard shivered and pressed his hands up against the wall, surrendering to Till's control.

Feeling Richard's compliance made Till feel powerful, and he growled low as he gripped Richard's manhood tightly. Richard stiffened his spine, pressing back into Till's body with his own as he moaned slightly. Till released him, grabbing one of Richard's hands and putting it on the man's own cock, instructing Richard to jerk himself slowly as Till only had his one hand still. As he did so, Till undid his own pants with his good hand. He sagged Richard's pants just enough to show his ass, onto which Till hefted his cock and began sliding up between his ass cheeks. Richard groaned at the feel of Till's thickness pushing up against his crack, teasing but not pushing into him. Till merely slid between him, using the friction and slipping of his foreskin to faux fuck. Richard began to masturbate faster, the feeling of Till so close, pushing against him but not inside him driving him wild. 

Till got into a rhythm, his hips shoving and lightly banging Richard against the wall. His arm snaked around and up Richard's chest, his good hand moving up to his mouth. On an aroused and controlling whim, Till pressed two fingers into the side of Richard's mouth. Richard accepted them, turning his mouth and sucking obediently. Till moaned at the feeling of Richard's tongue rubbing his fingers as he sucked them, and his thrusting quickened. He braced his casted arm against Richard's back as Till started grunting in time with his fucking against the smaller man's ass. 

Till tightened his fingers in Richard's mouth, pulling his head as though the fingers were hooks in Richard's cheek. Richard whined at that, spit sliding between Till's fingers and down his chin. Richard's hips started bucking as he fisted himself, letting Till know he was about to cum. Richard must not be masturbating much, Till managed to think between his frantic horny thoughts, if he was so close to finishing already. The thought excited him further, and as he felt Richard tense, he increased his pace to a feverish one. 

Till rocked his hips hard and pushed tightly against Richard's body, enjoying the flinching and shudders of the remnants of Richard's orgasm as he climbed into his own. He gasped as he stilled his movements, pinning Richard against the wall heavily. He grunted a few times, a bit quieter than he normally was, but he felt just as satisfied, if not more so. Richard was his, and he'd claimed him as such.

Till sighed in relief and stepped back, running his fingers across his mess on Richard's pretty ass. Richard grunted and swatted at his hand, grumbling something about Till being gross. For that, Till spun him around and pushed him against the wall again. Richard's eyes went wide as Till lifted a hand to his face, and he smirked at the shock in his eyes when he told him to open his mouth. He obeyed, though, and Till felt proud at that. Till slid his messy fingers slowly into Richard's mouth, and Richard instantly flushed a deep crimson. Till's smirk deepened at the control he had, and he moved his fingers to have Richard clean them in his mouth. 

He obeyed, as a good boyfriend would and Till rumbled deep in his chest. The heated look Till was given made him want to bend Richard over the sink and fully have his way with him, but they'd been gone a suspicious amount of time already. Till withdrew his fingers, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Richard's to enjoy the remaining taste of himself on his lips. 

When Till pulled back and licked his lips, Richard-- still a deep red-- muttered, "You're still disgusting, you know."

Till grinned and kissed him again, nipping his lip and growling playfully before responding, "Yes. Yes I am. Now come on. Your disgusting boyfriend wants to go poke fun at the rest of the exhibit with you."

Till helped Richard fix his pants, and made sure neither had any remaining spots of semen visible before leaving the bathroom. 

As soon as the bathroom door closed, a loud thunk sounded from one of the stalls, and a short whine from Schneider echoed in the bathroom around him.


	14. Bathrooms and Airplanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider hits a breaking point and pushes things further than he should

Earlier, Schneider had retreated to the bathroom in irritation. Flake had been driving them all crazy at the aircraft museum, and now Schneider was stuck in an incredibly boring art museum watching Till follow Richard around like a lost dog. It made Schneider feel disgusted, and he opted to sit on the edge of one of the toilets, closed of course, and play a game on his phone. At least this way he didn't have to sit and watch Till acting like a jealous teenager in front of him.

The bathroom door banging open caused him to nearly drop his phone. He heard Richard protesting something against Till and he rolled his eyes hard. Of course he couldn't escape those two even in the privacy of the bathroom. He stood up and was about to make a huffy exit when the sound of a muffled moan caught his ear. 

Schneider froze with his hand on the lock of his stall. He heard the unmistakable heavy breathing and smacks of kissing and his stomach rolled.

Fuck, not again.

"Come on, Till," he heard Richard muttering, but even Schneider could hear his protests were just a show. Till apparently thought so too, as there was no response except for a hefty grunt and the sound of muffled moans. 

Schneider wanted to beat his head against the wall. Why, *why* did this keep happening to him? Was the universe determined to torture him? And right after he'd made the conscious decision not to touch himself to thoughts of that goddamn man, too. 

Of course. 

His cock twitched defiantly in his pants as he sunk to the toilet seat again and put his head in his hands. He glanced up through the crack in the stall door to see Till lean over and lock the bathroom door. Well, there went his chance to sneak out while the two were preoccupied. Now he'd be stuck until they'd finished. 

Schneider held back a groan as he heard a belt being undone, most likely Richard's. The man was seemingly never without a belt. Till's sudden growling sent shivers down Schneider's spine, and he had to fight himself internally to keep from rubbing against his pants. Why the hell had he made that stupid promise to himself in the first place?

*Because of this reason right here,* his mind tormented. Right. His obsession. The reason he was sitting quietly in a toilet with an aching erection instead of interrupting the two and leaving as he should have done when they first entered: that was why. 

He made the mistake of glancing up and out of the door crack again when he heard more rustling and moaning. Richard was now jerking himself off while Till unbuttoned his pants in order to slide his dick between Richard's ass cheeks. Schneider bit his tongue until he tasted blood and sat on his hands to keep from grabbing himself. He pressed his head against the wall of the stall and squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to think of anything else except the panting and rutting he heard beyond the door. 

It didn't work. His thighs moved slightly, unconsciously trying to get any kind of friction against himself for relief. His rebellious eyes flicked to the door crack again and he very nearly moaned aloud as he saw Till hauling Richard's face toward him, two fingers hooked in his mouth as he grinded himself against the smaller man. Schneider saw Richard buck himself into his hand and cum like that, Till still thrusting against him. 

Schneider closed his eyes again and swallowed, trying to make his mind blank as he heard Till gasping while he finished fucking against Richard's ass. Finally, mercifully, Schneider heard Till grunt out his distinctive noise when he climaxed, and Schneider released a slow, thankful breath that it was over. He'd been worried for a moment that even keeping his hands off, he'd been too excited. 

He glanced out again, expecting to see them cleaning up as Richard made a comment about Till being gross. Schneider's breath caught again as he saw Till flip Richard around, both of their pants still down and pin him back to the wall again. 

"Open your mouth," Till commanded with a snarl. 

Schneider found himself obeying just like Richard, his mouth slowly opening along with him. He was entranced by Till's dominance, and Schneider's body followed his direction even when not commanded to him. 

When Till pushed his stickied fingers into Richard's mouth, Schneider lost himself. He couldn't stop the pang of arousal that shot from his head directly down to his toes, shuddering along his spine and causing his abdomen to flex. He barely registered the weak throbbing in his pants as he came, without even touching himself. He only barely managed to catch his gasps from becoming audible as he gritted his teeth hard.

Richard's flustered voice floated into Schneider's consciousness, "You're still disgusting, you know."

"Yes. Yes I am," he heard Till respond. "Now come on. Your disgusting boyfriend wants to go poke fun at the rest of the exhibit with you."

As soon as Schneider heard the bathroom door close behind the two, he let his head fall heavily against the wall with a bang. He whimpered miserably, cursing every god and deity he could think of for his current shitty lot in life. Not only could he not stop thinking about that man, he was so obsessed with him that Till could control him without Schneider even touching himself. 

Something finally unraveled inside Schneider at that. He felt his denial slip away, revealing his buried feelings in the light of his realization. He loved Till; more than love, he was absolutely, unquestionably smitten with him. He wanted him, in every possible way, wholly and completely. 

Schneider waited a good 10 minutes before gathering himself and leaving the bathroom stall. Luckily, he'd worn a baggy button down that reached below the wet spot on his jeans. He adjusted his shirt and pants, stared at himself miserably for another minute or two in the mirror, then with a sigh, hung his head as he left the bathroom. 

He was truly hopeless. But he would embrace that hopelessness with a resolution to get what he wanted, whatever it took.

\------------

That evening found them all on a plane back to Germany, with Richard, Till and Schneider on one side and Oli, Flake and Paul across the aisle. Paul threw on his noise canceling headphone and immediately fell asleep, Oli was listening to an audiobook in his own headphones, and Flake had a physical book that he was scribbling in the margins of as he read.

Richard had slumped onto the window to sleep, Till had kicked up his feet (as first class had spacious leg room) and was sipping lightly on a glass of whiskey, and Schneider sat with his arms crossed tightly, his mind warring with him. 

He should just do it. He should pretend to fall asleep, rest his head on Till's shoulder as though it were an accident and just leave it at that. Schneider could do it, now that he'd accepted his infatuation for what it was. The guilt was imaginary as there was nothing wrong with affection between friends this way, especially ones in an open relationship, he decided.

With a soft breath out, he did just that, gently sliding his head to rest against Till's broad shoulder. He had his eyes closed, feigning sleep, but could feel Till stir as he felt Schneider's resting head. Till grunted quietly, something he did a lot, he noted, and then ruffled Schneider's head lightly. Schneider almost smiled at the affection, but maintained his fake sleeping posture.

He sighed happily, and prepared to settle in for the flight. A thought grabbed him, and he only debated for a half second before he adjusted his seat, drawing his knees up into the seat with him. He turned his body toward Till, letting his face push into Till's neck as his legs slid under the arm rest to touch his thigh. He smelled Till's scent against his skin, dirt and sweat the overwhelming notes, but in a pleasant odor. He wanted to stay like this forever.

Schneider held his breath, waiting for Till's reaction to his insistent snuggling. He was all but spooning the bigger man now. He waited, a few more heartbeats, and then…

He flinched as he felt Till's hand slide across one of his knees and hold it gently. Schneider was stunned and didn't know how to react as Till's thumb rubbed across his leg. Should he "wake up," and see Till's reaction? Feign continued sleep to see where it went? 

Schneider's mind raced, and before he knew what he was doing, he simply lifted his head slightly from Till's neck, his eyes opened just slightly to look up at Till as if he were slowly waking up. 

Till moved his head to look down at Schneider, and a tiny smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. He gently leaned in just a bit and touched his lips to Schneider's, then moved his head back and settled himself back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Schneider's head spun, but he forced a yawn and pushed his face back into the crook of Till's neck, worried this was a dream that he was about to wake from. He breathed in deeply, and daring to push his luck, slipped his hand carefully to nudge agaisnt Till's that still rested on his leg. Till lifted his hand and settled it atop Schneider's, but made no further move than that. 

It was heaven, and Schneider tried his best to enjoy every last fleeting second of it.

\--------------

Across the aisle, Flake had abandoned his book, and put his head in one of his hands miserably. He wished he hadn't seen Till and Schneider just then. Now he would be forced to get involved.


	15. Flake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake gives Schneider an ultimatum

Flake held his tongue all the way from the airport to their hotel, but stayed particularly alert to Schneider's movements. While Till had been preoccupied with soliciting attention from a distracted Richard, Schneider had been persistently pushing and flirting, blatantly trying to be as close as he could to Till. He was like a lovestruck child trying to clumsily show his affection, sitting too close, "accidentally" brushing against him, everything he could to make contact with him.

Flake bristled at the man's actions. He'd been patient, taking Schneider at his word that he had no continuing feelings for Till, and now he was throwing it right in his face that he'd lied to him.

Of course, Flake still felt bad for him. Till had Richard, and clearly wasn't looking for any other romantic attachments; that was extremely heartbreaking for Schneider. But that didn't make what he was doing any less wrong. He was running the risk of hurting the relationship between Richard and Till by being so aggressively flirtatious and seemingly uncaring of the pair's attachment in lieu of his own desires.

That was where Flake had to draw the line. Richard was apparently dealing with something of his own, and Till somehow either still didn't realize or was being willfully ignorant at this point. 

It had been years. Schneider needed to allow himself to move forward, and he clearly wasn't going to without intervention. As always, Flake wished the duty had not fallen to him, but he felt somewhat responsible for the man's well being after everything that had happened. 

With all of this tumbling around in his mind, Flake trudged over to Schneider's hotel room. It was very late, but he needed to get this done before he lost his nerve or convinced himself to stay out if it.

He knocked lightly, and Schneider opened the door slightly, immediately narrowing his eyes at seeing Flake alone at his room. 

"Ja?" he asked, not opening the door any wider. Flake wasn't known for making room calls unless something important was going on, or he was drunk. Perhaps Schneider was still a bit peeved about his loose tongue.

"May I come in?" Flake asked.

Flake thought Schneider was about to say no, based on his facial expression; but he finally opened the door wider and waved his hand toward the room, gesturing for Flake to enter. 

"Thank you," Flake said politely.

Schneider shrugged, then flopped back down onto his bed, picking up the book he'd apparently been reading. Flake noted that he'd seemingly not bothered to unpack anything except for his book.

Flake sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. Schneider eyed him warily over the top of his book, but didn't lower it as Flake sighed and turned his attention to the drummer. 

"I saw you coming onto Till on the plane and on the ride here," Flake said bluntly. "You're flirting, pressing him for affection and blatantly in love with him."

Though Schneider's face was half-hidden behind his book, Flake saw a brief moment of concern flicker across his features. 

"I seem to recall telling you, just the other day and in no uncertain terms, that I am not," Schneider finally said, his voice tight and on edge. "In fact, I said it twice. Was I unclear somehow?"

Flake heard the underlying irritation in Schneider's tone, and briefly wondered if the man would hit him again. But he stayed resolute. He knew what he had seen, and it hadn't been subtle this time. On top of it all, Schneider lied. Had he simply been honest, Flake may have been willing to give a little leeway or turned a bit of a blind eye to the lovesick man. But Flake couldn't stand liars.

"You were plenty clear," Flake said evenly, preparing to dodge if Schneider decided to toss his book at him. The man wasn't violent, but he was wildly unpredictable when it came to Till, Flake had seen. He would rather not take chances.  
"It was also plenty clear watching you get up on him to hold his hand and kiss him."

Though his face stayed stony, Flake noted a red tint blossoming on Schneider's face. It made him look both flustered and irritated simultaneously.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes. You do. And frankly, I'm sick of you lying through your teeth to me. If you can't be clear and honest with me Christoph, I can't help you."

Schneider gave a derisive snort.  
"Help me, huh? And how exactly have you helped me? If memory still serves, you were the one who blurted to half the band that I have a thing for Till."

"I'm also the one who's told them all to keep their mouths shut about it. And I'm the one who has continued to keep my own mouth shut whenever I talk to Till."

Flake let that last comment hang like a threat in the air. 

Schneider's eyes went cold.  
"You wouldn't," he said, desperation creeping into his voice.

"I would, and I will if you can't come clean yourself."

Flake took a deep breath and laid out his ultimatum.  
"You have three days. If you can't get the balls up to talk to Till and tell him how you feel, I'll do it for you. You can't keep sneaking around like this and getting in between he and Richard. Till isn't anywhere near as perceptive as the others, so subtle hints don't cut it. You either tell him outright how you feel, and not that you "like" him-- that you have strong feelings for him, love him if that's what it is-- or I tell him."

Schneider stared hard at Flake, and Flake resisted the urge to swallow out of anxiety.

"You're serious?" Schneider sounded like he was clinging to a desperate hope that Flake was pulling his leg. Unfortunately for Schneider, he was not. 

Flake nodded slowly.   
"This game will only end up hurting someone- likely all three of you, and I can't let you do that to yourself. Not again."

Schneider winced, and Flake felt awful about bringing up the past, but he had to get it in Schneider's head that this was non-negotiable, and a very serious matter at that. 

Schneider finally put down his book, not caring to mark the page he'd been on, choosing instead to toss it to the floor. He seemed to deflate then, sinking back against the headboard and sliding down against the pillows. He looked remarkably small, sunken into the softness of the bed.

"I don't know how to do that," he said quietly, and Flake finally saw the man for who he truly was, unmasked: Schneider was afraid. He was afraid of his own feelings, of rejection, of unrequited love, of confrontation. 

"I've found it helps to just say what you're feeling," Flake offered, scooting a bit closer to Schneider, now that he didn't fear any thrown projectiles or slaps.

Schneider rolled his eyes.   
"That's very easy for you to say, Herr I-don't-get-emotional-Lorenz."

Flake smiled ruefully. If only that were true. But he has more important things to keep on his mind right now.  
"You don't have to bust down his door tonight. In fact, I'd recommend against it. I think he's dealing with Richard who's dealing with something else. Just, try to look for an opportunity when he's calm and unbothered. If it comes down to my telling him, I won't beat him over the head with it either. It will just be a simple explanation."

Schneider's brow furrowed at that.  
"No. I'll do it. I'll figure it out somehow."

Flake searched Schneider's face, but the man had fallen back into his stone-faced impassivity; a mask of neutrality was Schneider's greatest defense against his own emotions, Flake knew. He wished he knew how to help him break it, but he sensed this was a battle Schneider had to face on his own. 

His heart felt a strong ache for Schneider. He knew how difficult what he'd forced him to do would be.

On a whim, Flake got up from the bed and went to the mini bar. He grabbed some of the alcohol shooters before jumping back onto the bed and dropping a few into Schneider's lap. He scooted himself up next to Schneider and cracked one open, downing it in one quick motion. 

Schneider grinned at the man in puzzled amusement.  
"Is that really a good idea, big mouth?"

Flake shrugged. "Till isn't here for me to spill secrets to, and I really don't have any other life changing revelations. And it seems like you could use a drink."

Schneider had to concede that point. They had the day off tomorrow before their rehearsal in the evening, and as it was in a familiar location in Scheeßel, they weren't much concerned about it. 

"You make a good case, Lorenz," Schneider said, picking up and uncapping another small bottle.   
"Cheers."

Schneider downed the bitter, burning liquid with a grimace. He didn't much like straight liquor, but he tolerated it occasionally, especially to avoid thinking about the future unpleasant task of confessing his feelings for Till.

This would be a good distraction, both Flake and Schneider thought to themselves as they toasted another small bottle each. 

\-----------

Distract it did, and within an hour, the two were pleasantly drunk, watching some reality television show about paternity, or whatever it was, laid back against the headboard and leaning against each other. It was funny, they knew, but they couldn't explain it to save their lives. They were the kind of drunk that made everything hilarious, especially their own giggles, which then turned into even more laughing. 

Schneider had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, and Flake's cheeks hurt from how wide his grin was amidst his cackling. 

"You think any of these people actually care about the kids, or just do it for the money and chance to be on tv?" Schneider asked, rolling across the bed for another bottle of alcohol. They'd depleted his stash, so Flake had gone to his own room and gathered all of his and brought them back. They'd slowly burned their way through them, and had settled in the comfortable, giggly drunk without getting too hammered.

"I think," Flake began, a an exaggerated air of serious debate in his voice, "That if they cared about their kids, they'd not be on TV in the first place."

It wasn't a comedic line, and not at all funny, but Schneider burst into giggles again, which then caused Flake to follow suit until the pair had tears rolling down both their faces. 

Finally they began to compose themselves, and their laughing fit devolved into exhausted and drunk yawns.

"I also think, I need to sleep," Flake mumbled, his eyes already half closed.

Schneider nodded, his eyes closing as well.  
"Go on, then. I need to sleep too."

Flake gave him a look that tried to be concerned, but came off as a goofy frown. Schneider smiled at him and reached out a hand to pat his head, ending in more of a caress and ruffle. Flake leaned into it drunkenly, murmuring something Schneider didn't understand. 

"Are you okay to leave?" Schneider asked, suddenly concerned for how much Flake had drank. He was only mildly drunk, but remembered how much lighter Flake was than he, and how much harder alcohol tended to hit him. 

"Oh sure," Flake slurred, rolling off the bed and onto his feet, sloppily. He nearly fell over, and Schneider hurried off the bed to help right him. 

"I think you should stay here tonight," Schneider advised, holding Flake upright as the keyboardist staggered sideways.

"I dunno if that's all right," Flake stated, leaning heavily on Schneider as he became more and more limp in his arms. 

Schneider hefted him up more steadily, ignoring his mild protests. Flake had been good to him, looking out for him and trying to ease his discomfort. He would do the same for his friend.

Flake was very nearly asleep when Schneider laid him down on the bed, tucking him in and settling into bed next to him. It was not an unfamiliar position. He and Paul and Schneider had shared cramped beds many, many times in the past when they'd been much closer, with fewer cares in the world.

Flake turned and pushed himself to Schneider, drunkenly reaching, grasping for closeness. Schneider felt saddened for Flake. When Flake drank, he always seemed to swing one of three ways:   
1\. He became obsessed with telling everyone in earshot about his favorite cars and their specs.   
2\. He became giggly and verbose until he passed out.  
3\. He descended into a strong depression, craving physical contact until nightmares found him as he fell into sleep, if he couldn't find someone to hold and keep him company.

Schneider knew it was the 3rd, now. He pulled Flake close, hoping he could stave off the man's nightmares that seemed to haunt him more frequently than they should. He'd never asked about them, but had been party to their effects quite a bit when they'd been younger. Flake had screamed, yelled, kicked, punched, generally fought for his life during the more serious episodes. Schneider had only seen a few, but Paul had many stories from Flake's teenage years about his nightmares, and Schneider would feel horribly if Flake's attempt at distracting him led to his own distress.

Flake tensed and pushed away under Schneider's hold, and even drunk, Schneider felt saddened at that. He didn't really know what to do for him to ease his hazy mind. He was sure the alcohol was clouding it and making Flake have a difficult time interpreting sensations, considering Flake had reached for him first and was now trying to fight him away. 

Schneider held firm, gripping Flake's head tightly to his chest, and slowly Flake's resistance faded. He was left with a small whimper, that died down into a gentle rhythmic whine that then faded into what Schneider recognized as simply sleeping breaths. Flake nuzzled his head against Schneider, relinquishing his tension and settling his face gently on Schneider's abdomen.

Schneider felt incredibly tired, but satisfied that he'd helped his friend. He still had an unpleasant discussion to handle at some point soon, because Flake wasn't known for his idle threats; but for now, everything was all right.


	16. Open-Ended Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till sneaks around and needs to be punished, but Richard seemingly doesn't have the time.

As Schneider and Flake drank and watched TV, two rooms over Till was busy brooding.

Richard had been almost dismissive of his increased drive for affection, and that wounded Till. He understood the draw of a woman, but Richard had gone so quickly for her, and so wholeheartedly. Surely that wasn't a smart thing, Till reasoned. She must have some ulterior motive, and that was why he constantly felt so upset whenever he thought about them together. 

Richard was currently in the shower, and Till was sitting and stewing. He needed to figure out what that girl's true intentions were, and expose her to Richard. 

Till glanced over at Richard's phone. Despite having been given permission to use it as he wished, Till still felt dirty as he picked it up and thumbed in Richard's passcode. He tried to reason he was doing it to look out for Richard, but even that excuse seemed frail.

He went to his messaging app and flipped down through the messages, pausing now and then to read through their banter. 

It was mostly light, semi-flirtatious talk when they'd first been communicating, but it very quickly fell into deep emotional talks, Till saw as he read. A sense of guilt creeped at him as he realized Richard had been asking Kayleigh for advice here and there, specifically about Till. 

"he just seems really emotionally incapable sometimes," Richard had said, in the midst of a conversation where they'd realized they were both exceptionally good communicators of their emotions. Richard, though he seemingly had yet to outright tell Kayleigh that he and Till were a couple, had made strong hints about his emotional involvement with him. 

"Some people have a much harder time recognizing and expressing themselves emotionally," Kayleigh had said. "Do you try to get him to open up and practice talking to you about how he feels?"

"I've tried in the past. He's awful at it unless I beat him over the head about it."

Till flushed in embarrassment. Though he was glad Richard hadn't outright said he needed to be physically beaten to open up, he still felt immense shame that it had even been hinted at to someone else, much less someone Richard was interested in. 

Till looked up from the phone and felt his eyes sting. Was Richard really so frustrated with Till's emotional difficulties that he felt the need to turn to someone else? Did Richard need someone else, more emotionally mature and expressive than him?

Was he not enough?

The thought choked Till and hurt his throat. It was true that in the past few weeks, he'd not been as close to Richard as he should have. He'd fallen into the touring cycle of performing, partying, and crashing next to Richard with little quality time with him. Till felt awful at the realization, and wished Richard had said something to him. 

*He wouldn't need to say something if you were as capable of emotional discernment as Kayleigh,* a cruel voice in his head noted. 

Till's distress increased tenfold. He heard the shower shut off, and he quickly set down Richard's phone and locked it again. When Richard came out of the bathroom, Till rushed over to him and grabbed him tightly, desperately. 

"Till, can I at least get dried off first?" Richard asked, amused.

Till shook his head against him, then pulled back and looked down at his face.  
"Richard, I think I need you to punish me."

Richard's smirk fell a bit.  
"Oh, well, can it wait until tomorrow? I'm supposed to go meet Kayleigh for a late night thing in a little bit. I'll be back later if you're still going to be awake then."

Till felt desperation and anxiety rising, and his worry that he couldn't control it skyrocketed.  
"No," he said honestly. "Please? I really need you."

Richard's lips pressed together as he debated.  
"I can only help you for a little bit tonight, Till, then I really need to go. Kayleigh drove a good way to get here, and I can't just abandon her all of a sudden."

Till nodded quickly. Even a little bit was better than nothing. He pressed his forehead to Richard's still-damp chest and held him tightly. 

Richard patted him gently.  
"Will you be okay with that for tonight?" Richard asked, a little concerned. 

Till nodded again.  
"Yes. I just really need it right now."

"Are you all right?"

"I will be."

Richard nodded at him, and Till released him to go get his flogger from his backpack. He gave it almost reverently to Richard, and then looked up at him expectantly. 

"Go sit on the floor while I tell Kayleigh I might be a bit late."

Till obeyed quickly, dropping to the floor and sitting on his knees with his head bent down to wait. Richard quickly tapped out a message to Kayleigh who was very understanding.

Richard crossed the floor, his attention now fully on his partner. He stared down at Till and put on his domineering persona.

"Why do you need to be punished?" He demanded gruffly.

Till hesitated for a moment and didn't look up, then said, "I haven't been open and emotionally available to you. I need to be reminded to do so."

Till purposefully left out that he'd also been invading Richard's privacy and was wracked with insecurity and suspicion of Kayleigh. Being punished for just one thing was enough for tonight.

"Very well. How do you think you deserve to be punished?" Richard had done some research, Till noticed. Asking Till for his own punishment idea was an excellent move, and he was grateful he had such a concerned and thorough partner. 

Unfortunately, that realization made him feel even more ashamed of his own shortcomings, and he felt the stinging at his eyes once again.

"I just need it to hurt," Till said, his voice cracking a bit.

"All right. Go lay your back on the bed, feet on the floor."

Till obeyed quickly, afraid tears would spring up before he was even beaten. He threw himself back against the bed with his legs hanging off the edge and touching the floor with his feet.

Richard walked over in front of him and wasted no time with forcing Till to repeat anything or count his stripes. Till appreciated it, as he felt the first tears leaking from his eyes after the very first strike.

Richard laid into him strongly and quickly, arcing the flogger across his chest in a back and forth motion. It took only a few minutes for Till to begin sobbing in earnest, gripping the quilt in his fisted hands beside him. Richard paused, and asked if he'd learned his lesson.

Till shook his head violently.  
"Please keep going," he begged, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyes squeezed shut from the physical and emotional pain.

Richard obliged, moving a touch lower with his strikes. The flogger bit at Till's abdomen, leaving bright red welts crossed all over Till's broad front. 

After one final, determined hit, Till cried out and raised his hand for Richard to stop. He didn't use his safe word, but Richard understood the raised hand as a stopping point. Till's chest heaved as his breath came in hitching gasps as he continued to cry, curling into a ball on the top of the bed. 

He felt Richard's warm lips pressed to his head, and his hand stroking across his sweaty forehead.  
"It's okay," Richard soothed, wiping at his tears. "You're all right."

Just as Till felt himself calming down, Richard's touch was gone. His anxiety and internal pain immediately returned with a vengeance, and he whimpered.  
"Richard?" he asked between sobs, looking around for him.

"I'm just getting dressed," Richard called from the bathroom. "I really have to go, Till; I'm sorry. I promise I'll be back in just a few hours."

Till felt a cold desperation balling itself in his stomach, but he knew without even asking that Richard wouldn't stay. He pulled himself together as best he could when Richard came back over to the bed to hug and kiss him goodbye.

"I'll be back soon, love," Richard said as he nuzzled at Till's neck briefly. Till just nodded, and Richard left without another word. 

Till collapsed back onto the bed. His tears were spent, but he felt cold and alone. He had truly needed Richard's aftercare, but felt he would look like an ass if he'd asked or pressured Richard any further to stay with him. Till reached for his phone on the bedside table and was going to type a message to Flake, asking him to come sit with him, but saw Flake had drunkenly texted him an hour before, telling him he was drinking with Schneider. Till texted anyhow, hoping he was still awake. Drunk Flake was enjoyable, and usually very comforting and physically loving, which Till desperately needed. 

Flake didn't respond, and after twenty minutes Till knew if he couldn't get ahold of someone, he might end up having an anxiety attack. Paul didn't answer his phone, and Till already knew Oli was with his girlfriend. 

He dialed Schneider's number with a shaky hand, hoping the man wasn't drunk and asleep like Flake likely was. 

Schneider picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hey, Doom. I really need you to come over. Please."


	17. Duality of Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider and Till have a very long anticipated meeting together.

Schneider was abruptly dragged from his light, drunken dozing by the sound of his phone ringing. He grimaced and picked it up, squinting at the light from it to see who it was. Flake didn't even move beside him, his head pressed on Schneider's chest and arm draped across him.

He answered the phone with a grunt, the best acknowledgement he could muster at the time as he tried to wake up.

"Hey, Doom. I really need you to come over. Please."

Till sounded as though he'd been crying, and that served to both help sober and wake up Schneider.

"What's wrong?" Schneider asked, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep.

"I just need someone with me. Please?"

Schneider looked down at Flake again, who'd not moved a muscle. He knew the keyboardist would be fine now that he was comfortably sleeping. Perhaps this would even give him the opportunity he needed to talk to Till, once whatever was bothering him had been settled.

"Ja. I'll be right there."

Till hung up without another word. Schneider slid out of bed, carefully positioning Flake to hold the pillow instead. He still didn't move apart from his rhythmic breathing. 

Schneider didn't bother hunting around for his shirt before going over to Till's room. He was still a bit drunk and wobbly, but he steadied himself and knocked lightly. Till immediately swung the door open.

Before Schneider could even open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Till had wrapped him in a hug tight enough to squeeze the air from Schneider's lungs. He stood, crushed for a few moments before Till released him with a mumbled apology. When he stepped back, Schneider's eyes went wide at the mess of swollen, reddened stripes across Till's bare chest. Till followed his gaze down and blushed.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Schneider asked as Till turned quickly away and went back into the room. 

"It's, they're not bad. They're-- I just like pain sometimes," Till fumbled around his explanation. "But Richard had to leave in a hurry and couldn't finish, and I just--" 

Till sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed heavily.  
"I just need someone close after all that, and everyone else is either away or asleep."

Schneider nodded slowly. Though he only dabbled with occasional BDSM, he knew what aftercare was, and from the look of the swollen welts along Till's chest, he needed it. Part of him felt irked at Richard for leaving him like this, but he dismissed the thought as it wasn't his business.

"Do you have lotion for it?" Schneider asked, inspecting the marks as he sat beside Till, sober enough to sit still, thankfully.

The bigger man reached for his backpack next to the bed. He dug out a small bottle and handed it to Schneider hesitantly, as if afraid to ask, or unsure if he would actually help.

Schneider accepted the temporary caregiver role with not a word, and began softly applying the lotion to the raised welts. Till sucked in short breaths whenever he was touched, but his racing heartbeat began to slow as the familiar coolness of the balm was applied. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head slump forward as Schneider worked.

Schneider bit his lip, attempting to focus on the welts under his fingers rather than the man's toughened muscles sliding under his hands. He marveled again at just how *broad* Till was, even slumped over like this. He fought to keep his thoughts under control as Till grunted when he rubbed an especially tender mark. 

"Thank you," Till whispered, his eyes still closed and his head still bowed forward.

"Don't mention it," Schneider said, his voice a bit firm as he clenched his jaw.

Till opened his eyes and looked up at Schneider's focused gaze. Schneider made the mistake of meeting his eyes, which were puddles of soft green. He broke their gaze and busied himself with the lotion again. Till seemed not to notice, and took a deep breath with an equally large exhale. Schneider watched in fascination as the man's chest expanded and deflated with the breath. 

When he'd finished, Schneider re-capped the bottle and looked over Till's chest with a critical eye, making sure he'd not missed any spots. Satisfied, he set the bottle down on the ground.

"Do you want me to get you a shirt?" Schneider offered, unsure what else to do for him. 

Till shook his head and said, "It hurts to put one one right afterward."

"Oh, right," Schneider said lamely. Of course it would hurt, idiot, he thought to himself. Clearly he wasn't thinking properly.  
"What else do you need?"

Till took another overly deep breath, and Schneider couldn't tell if he were tired or trying to calm himself.

"I…" Till hesitated, then looked over at Schneider with a very guarded look.  
"Normally Richard holds me for awhile," he said very quietly, almost bashfully. "It's fine if you don't want to. I just think I need someone here with me, at least, in the room."

Schneider, still slightly drunk, turned off the part of his brain screaming warnings at him and immediately pulled Till into his arms. Till sighed in relief, and wrapped his arms around Schneider, pressing his head firmly against his shoulder. Schneider felt heat creeping up his neck and into his face, but he let it come. He chose to pay attention only to the feel of Till's warm skin against his own, his breath hot on his upper arm.

He tried to keep his heartbeat steady, but failed miserably when Till sighed against him, the sigh ending in a happy rumble. Schneider couldn't stop the throbbing that followed his heartbeat, though he desperately wanted to. It was inappropriate, uncalled for and a terrible, terrible idea.

…but Schneider did it anyway. 

He moved his head so that his face met Till's, and he pressed his lips to the man's forehead. Till turned his face at that, and Schneider wanted to groan at the look Till gave him. His eyes were half closed, the green in them smouldering up at him. 

Till reached up with his face, meeting Schneider's slightly open mouth with his own. Schneider inhaled sharply at the kiss, but then pushed into it greedily, his hand already slipping to hold the back of Till's neck in his familiar move.

Till moaned into Schneider's kiss, and that was all it took for Schneider to push past his lingering doubts. He gripped hard at Till's neck and felt Till immediately surrender to him, becoming nearly limp in his grasp. It suprised Schneider, but he went with it, his body simply crying for sex, regardless of the logistics.

He flipped Till over face down onto the bed and stood up, taking a bit of care to avoid running his hands over the welts on his chest. Till moaned again and pressed his backside hard up against Schneider's crotch. It made Schneider grunt, and he was a bit stunned at Till's sudden submission. Where was the animal in Till that he'd needed to fight and conquer, or be conquered by?

He tried to shrug off the weird feeling gnawing at him and pushed Till harder into the bed. Till made a high pitched noise, somewhere between a gasp and a swallowed cry. He pushed his hands up the bed, above his head as Schneider gripped the back of his neck firmly and pressed his face into the bed. Till simply took it without fuss, occasionally whimpering with desire. Schneider yanked his pants down, spit in his hand and wiped it across his dick, then pushed into Till with no pretext or preparation. Till grunted in pain but quickly switched his pained grunt for a pleased one. 

Schneider was having a difficult time wrapping his head around a sudden drop in his desire, despite this being everything he thought he wanted. He was having sex, one-on-one with the man he'd been obsessing about for years. This should have been an ecstatic moment; something hotter than his fantasies had ever been.

But he found himself mechanically thrusting, holding Till's hip with one hand and his other pressed to the back of his neck. Till seemed happy enough, moaning and gasping in pleasure as he was fucked. Why wasn't Schneider enjoying it as much? Was he still that drunk?

He sped up his thrusts, and let go of Till's neck to grab his other hip, helping haul the man's backside to meet his own hips as they hit each thrust. Schneider was being pleasured only in the basest sense: his dick was wet as it was squeezed and stimulated and he knew he'd climax if he kept his pace steady. But it was all only a surface pleasure. His heart wasn't in it anymore, and he couldn't figure out why. He felt very in control of himself, and knew he wasn't too drunk to enjoy sex properly, so it wasn't that.

With a very practiced mental exercise, Schneider focused only on the tightness surrounding his cock, the heat as it entered and coolness as he pulled out, back and forth. He listened intently for Till's labored groans, and finally built himself up to orgasm. He had to pull out and jerk himself to finish, feeling the buildup sensation begin to wan as he tried holding himself inside to cum. Schneider pumped at himself hard, but only a small grunt left his mouth as he finished, rather than his usual snarls and groans. His ejaculation was weak and lasted only a few moments before what was left of his arousal drained from him.

Till stilled beneath him as well with a final, drawn out moan when Schneider pulled out and came in small spurts across his ass and lower back. Had he not been more confused than anything, Schneider might have been ashamed at his pathetic performance. But as it stood, he was just filled with the question of, "what happened?"

Till rolled over and looked up at Schneider, his breathing slowing and evening as they stared at one another. Till scooted over on the bed and motioned for Schneider to sit next to him. Schneider was slightly distracted by Till's dick, as it was still quite hard, but he was nowhere near as focused on it anymore as he'd been before. It was now more of an embarrassed distraction, reminding him of his less than stellar sexual performance. He'd not even gotten Till off.

"Do you want me to cuddle you?" Till asked him as Schneider hesitantly sat down next to him.

Schneider thought for a moment, and then very slowly shook his head no.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

Another shake of his head.

"Do you want anything from me?"

Schneider heard no judgement, disappointment, or even desperation in Till's voice. It was almost more compassion or sympathy he heard, and he was even more confused by that. 

"Till, I thought I loved you," Schneider suddenly blurted, looking down at the tacky hotel carpet. He didn't know where the impulse to speak had come from, but it was as if his mind had finally bubbled over with his musings and confusion and refused to stay inside him any longer. 

"I was obsessed. I thought I wanted you, adored you. I thought that way for a very, very long time."

Schneider dragged his eyes up from the carpet and met Till's, that were neither upset nor suprised, he saw. Till remained quiet, waiting for Schneider to continue. 

"I thought being with you, alone-- I don't know. I thought it would be different. It doesn't feel like I thought it would. I feel…"

Schneider suddenly struggled for words and pressed his hands in his lap awkwardly, avoiding Till's gaze again.

Till continued to wait quietly for him to gather his thoughts. 

"I feel, bad? Well, not bad, but not good, either. I don't know, I just feel--"

"Unfulfilled," Till finished for him.

Schneider closed his mouth and pondered the word, suprised that it was so fitting. 

"Yes."

Till gave Schneider a rueful smile.  
"You know, Doom, you could have told me this a long, long time ago, and I'd have helped you figure out you didn't love me much sooner."

Schneider blushed hard, completely ashamed at Till's perception and critique. He was right, of course.  
"I had no idea I didn't want something romantic like this with you."

"I understand. I felt that way before, too. Fortunately, I've had this exact same thing happen before," Till said, patting Schneider gently on the shoulder.  
"I've had some practice in the "lust mistaken for love" game."

"That's… that's exactly what it is, I think," Schneider said, the revelation dawning on him like the breaking of morning sun.

"You like it rough, animalistic, nothing but fierce passion with me. You don't want me soft or romantic with you. I could feel it in every movement, every muscle when you touched me."

Schneider was sure he couldn't blush any harder at that. He felt completely exposed under Till's assessment of him and it shamed him.

"I'm sorry, Till," Schneider said softly, moving a hand to touch Till's that rested on his shoulder. "I should have just taken care of your wounds and held you, and let that be it."

"No, I'm glad you tried this. I'd not have realized otherwise, unless you were already planning to tell me afterward."

"Flake threatened to tell you if I didn't."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Schneider's eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut. 

Till raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Flake knew you thought you loved me?"

Schneider made an apologetic face and nodded, ready for an explosion from Till, as Schneider had done with Flake.

Instead Till chuckled softly.  
"Of course he did. The all-knowing Doktor Lorenz."

Schneider released the breath he'd been holding, relieved that Till wasn't angry.

"Do I need to tell Richard?" Schneider asked.

"I don't think so. Does he know about your previous confusion also?"

"I overheard him, Flake, Oli and Paul discussing it the other day. I guess Flake had divulged that little secret when we were drinking at the strip club in the Netherlands."

Till laughed loudly at that, and Schneider couldn't help but join in with a light chuckle. It was a bit funny now that it was over and resolved. 

When Till stopped laughing, he shook his head again.  
"No, don't worry about Richard. I'll talk to him, if he ever gets back from visiting his clingy little whore."

There was a suprising bitterness in Till's voice with the sudden insult toward Richard's friend. The band had all become aware of her in one way or another, and knew Richard was casually seeing her. They also all knew Till was hopelessly jealous about it.

Schneider cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Till, can I say something that might be extremely inappropriate and none of my business?"

"Things that are extremely inappropriate and none of my business are two of my favorite things. Go ahead."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself with his newfound openness with Till, and said, "You're incredibly jealous of Richard and his new friend. Everyone sees it except you, and I know I'm the last person to be talking about confronting your feelings, but if I don't tell you, one of the others is bound to shortly. It's getting ridiculous to see, Till, and I don't think you even realize it."

Till seemed stunned at Schneider's verbal onslaught, and sat without responding for a few minutes. Schneider wondered whether he'd overstepped, and was about to apologize when Till spoke up firmly.

"I don't get jealous."

Schneider rolled his eyes hard as he reached down to pull on his pants.  
"Everyone gets jealous sometime. You just hadn't met someone as important to you as Richard, I guess."

Though Schneider had said it somewhat flippantly as he got dressed, Till felt as though the man had slapped him with his statement. 

It was true. Richard had become the single most important person in his life, barring his immediate family. Though he loved his bandmates, and could easily imagine sacrificing many things for them, he *loved* Richard. He was Till's first thought when he woke up in the morning, and his last thought before he fell asleep at night, each and every day. His bed now felt hollow and cold when Richard wasn't in it with him. Anytime Richard kissed him, Till felt his very soul light up in happiness. Richard could punish him with love, and give him the relief he needed, that no one else on the planet could do for him. 

Of course he was jealous about someone else taking Richard's attention. 

Till hung his head, suddenly very tired and more than a little saddened at the realization.  
"You're right," Till said.

"I know; it's shocking," Schneider said, buttoning his pants. "But it does happen sometimes"

Till gave a sad smile at that, which Schneider returned. Both felt a bit down, but both had made extremely important, life directing realizations, and for that they were glad.

A muffled yell from what sounded like several rooms over made both men jump. They immediately recognized Flake's voice.

As they both got up to run to the door, Till's phone began to ring. He picked it up, and gave Schneider a pained look.  
"It's Richard."

Schneider waved him off. "I'll take care of him. He just fell asleep drunk. Talk to Richard."

Till nodded, knowing Flake would be in good hands. Before he answered the phone and right as Schneider was about to leave, Till grabbed him and hugged him again.

"Thank you," he said, tightening his grip once more before letting him go.

Schneider gave him a small acknowledging smile and patted his shoulder, pleased that the only emotion he currently felt was a strong brotherly affection for Till.

Till smiled in return, then answered his phone as Schneider left to see to Flake.


	18. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider has a heart-to-heart with Flake

Schneider hurried back to his room. He'd been hoping Flake was drunk enough to sleep soundly through the night, but as he got to his door, the yelling and crying from inside said otherwise. Schneider slid his keycard through the lock and nearly threw himself through the door in a rush.

Flake was tangled in the top quilt as he kicked the sheets into a ball around him, thrashing and flailing. He was whimpering intermittently, occasionally letting out a short wail of fear.

Schneider jumped into the bed and began unwrapping the blanket and sheets from Flake's sweat-drenched body. Flake fought him, his eyes still squeezed closed and his jaw clenched tightly. Schneider dodged flailing arms and kicking feet as he untangled Flake's thin fame. 

"Easy, easy Flake," Schneider murmured, trying to grab Flake's arms to hold them steady. "Calm down, friend."

His grip on the man's tensed arm slipped, and Flake managed to punch him square in his mouth, splitting his lip. Schneider cursed and sat back at the sudden pain with a snarl. He wiped his now-bloody lip on the back of his hand as he felt a surge of anger. 

Schneider had a hot temper that was triggered by physical pain, but he lost the anger quickly when he saw Flake's body start to convulse in hitched, sobbing breaths. Schneider felt his stomach clench at the sight of Flake curling into a tight ball and crying in his sleep. 

Schneider moved forward again, pushing his arms under Flake's light frame and pulling his whole body close to him, like a child. He enveloped Flake in a tight hug, trying to will away whatever was terrorizing his unconscious mind as he held the man. One arm was under Flake's legs, the other gripping around his back holding him across his lap. Schneider almost smiled thinking that the hold was like a groom carrying a bride. 

Flake's trembling tore him away from the funny thought, and Schneider pulled him closer.  
"Flake, please, wake up," he said, his head bent down and pressed to his friend's shaking form. "You're okay, everything's okay, it's okay. Beruhig dich Mal, Flake."

Schneider continued to mutter comforting words, glad when he finally felt Flake's trembling, tensed muscles begin to relax. 

"That's good, Flake, very good," he crooned, laying his own head down against the man's dirty blonde hair to comfort his friend. Flake's damp head smelled of sweat, but it was somehow not a bad smell, Schneider noted. Flake had really never smelled bad. The man was meticulous in his grooming and cleanliness, even more so than Richard. Schneider had always marveled at Flake's ability to keep himself so well maintained, even while on hectic touring schedules.

Well maintained that is, except for his occasional nightmares. Based on how long it was taking Flake to fully stop shaking, Schneider was thankful it only happened when he was drunk, and even then, only when he was very drunk which happened very rarely. 

Finally, Flake's eyes stopped flicking back and forth under his tightly closed eyelids, and he slowly opened them. Schneider smiled down at him, relieved he was waking up. 

"Guten morgen, Fräulein," Schneider teased as Flake blearily began to regain consciousness. "Your prince has come to awaken you with a kiss."

Flake looked up, and the ghosts haunting his sleep finally dissipated as he scowled at Schneider's grinning face. 

"You're not at all funny," Flake grumbled, his voice raspy.  
"And why the hell are you holding me like an infant? Are you that drunk?"

Schneider sighed good-naturedly, then unceremoniously dumped Flake away from him across the bed. Flake yelped as he tumbled, nearly falling off the end of the bed from the momentum. He caught himself, but Schneider noticed he was still quite wobbly and unbalanced. A check at the clock showed it had only been about two hours since they'd stopped drinking and gone to bed, so Flake was likely still quite drunk. 

Flake lost his balance trying to untangle his legs from a sheet and face planted with a muffled grunt into the balled up blankets. Schneider snorted a laugh as Flake flailed around drunkenly to right himself.

"Some prince you are," Flake slurred as he finally crawled his way back up the bed. "Tossing your princess off the bed and laughing at her."

Schneider laughed harder at that, but held out a helpful, gentlemanly hand.

Flake narrowed his eyes at the man and swatted his hand away. "This princess doesn't need a prince, clearly," he grumbled as he staggered up next to Schneider at the head of the bed. He turned around and flopped down, his back hitting against the headboard.

"Don't bang the bed against the wall," Schneider scolded as Flake slouched against the pillows. "Next door will think we're having sex."

Flake shot him an annoyed look that Schneider found incredibly amusing. 

"You didn't answer why you were essentially swaddling me with your arms," Flake pressed.

Schneider looked over and watched Flake methodically pulling up the rumpled blankets and laying them over himself. Sometimes watching Flake was like watching a different species of human altogether, with all of his specific little mannerisms and idiosyncrasies, Schneider thought.

"I heard you yelling from all the way in Till's room," Schneider said, continuing to watch Flake still swaying drunkenly as he smoothed the blankets across his legs. Flake looked up at that, his face puzzled. 

"I was yelling in Till's room?"

"No, you were yelling in here, and I heard you from Till's room."

Flake's confusion switched to a mix between a worried look and a guarded one, and Schneider didn't know whether it were from Flake realizing he'd been having a night terror or whether he were concerned for Schneider and Till. 

"Is that why your lip is bloody?"

Schneider touched his swollen lip and winced, then shook his head.  
"No, that was your nightmare-fueled punching. Earlier, Till called me to come over to his room because he needed some aftercare. I guess Richard had to leave in a hurry for something and everyone else was asleep. After that, I told him everything."

There was no reason to beat around the bush, Schneider decided, since it was all over and done with, now.  
"He was very understanding; very kind. He actually helped me realize that, well--" his voice faded away as he tried to think how to word what he'd discovered.  
"I don't love Till like that."

Suprise hit Flake's face so hard he almost flinched, and Schneider was unsure whether it were from the alcohol still lingering in Flake's system or whether he was truly that shocked.

"You don't?"

Schneider shook his head.  
"No. I want him physically, but only in very specific ways. We, um, we "tried" to have a romantic thing while I was over there, but it didn't work, for either of us, I guess."

Schneider pressed his hands into his lap, a bit uncomfortable. He'd not expected to be so open with Flake, but once he started sharing, he found it hard to stop. 

"Till told me he had the same thing happen before where he thought he was in love, which is why he was as understanding about it. I was so embarrassed; still am, really. It was such a shock. It's been god knows how many years that I thought I was infatuated. Turns out I just wanted his dick, so long as it was done roughly."

Flake grimaced while Schneider chuckled at the man's disgust on his oversharing. He enjoyed pushing Flake's buttons like that.

"While I didn't need details, I am truly glad it worked out for you, Christoph," Flake said, patting him on the shoulder with still-uncoordinated movements.

"Thank you for pushing me to say something," Schneider countered. "I really don't think I'd have done it myself if I hadn't been threatened."

"You're welcome for the threat, then," Flake said. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed another little bottle of alcohol. 

"That's not a good idea," Schneider cautioned.

Flake gave him an obstinate, almost challenging look.  
"Are you planning to kick me out of the room?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then I'll be fine. I'm wide awake and only somewhat drunk. I don't get sleepy until I'm thoroughly drunk."

"You also scream and have night terrors," Schneider quipped as Flake tossed the alcohol back with a grimace. "And occasionally hit my mouth."

"Think of it as payback for slapping me the other day. And as long as you stay here with me, I'll be fine," Flake repeated. 

Schneider felt an odd warmth in his chest at that statement. Flake trusted him enough to keep drinking, even after Schneider had already left him once tonight. He really didn't understand Flake's confidence in him at all, but that oddly warm feeling in his chest remained as Flake downed another shooter.

Flake shook his head and made a face at the burning down his throat.  
"We're lucky alcohol tastes terrible," he said. "We'd kill ourselves even more regularly if it didn't."

Schneider snorted lightly at Flake's drunken profoundness.  
"So wise," he muttered sarcastically, turning the TV back on. 

Flake chuckled at that, and slunk further down into the blankets he'd arranged atop himself.  
"Most days," he agreed. "I have my moments of stupidity."

"Truer words never spoken," Schneider quipped, settling on an American movie called "Jackass."

The two settled into a comfortable, buzzed and drunk time watching men kick each other in the crotch, dump beehives into cars, chug beer with their assholes, dodge a bull while on a teeter-totter, and many, many other stunts that had them crying with laughter, drunk or not. 

Flake had settled into the same position he'd been in before Schneider had left, with his body leaning heavily against Schneider as they laughed and enjoyed the movie together. Once it had ended, Schneider reached his arms ups in a yawning stretch. As he did so, he felt a tentative arm sliding across his bare chest. He looked down and watched Flake press the top of his head against him, very lightly, as if testing Schneider's allowance of it.

Schneider laid his head down against Flake's without a second thought, comfortingly. Flake was likely feeling depressed again from the alcohol, and needed closeness to keep his nightmares from his dreams. Schneider rubbed his back gently, hoping to soothe Flake to sleep.

A growing desire to protect and support was blossoming in Schneider's chest. It was a very foreign feeling, one he'd only ever had a taste of as a child when he'd been forced to safeguard his sibling in the absence of their parents. 

Schneider slammed the doors of his memory shut on that thought, his hand tensely gripping at Flake's back suddenly. Flake flinched, and Schneider came back to himself.

"Sorry," Schneider muttered, releasing his grip, angry at himself that he saw fingernail scratch marks where he'd held Flake's back. "I'm sorry, Flake."

Flake just murmured drunkenly, pushing his head harder against Schneider like a cat seeking its master's attention. Schneider obliged, willing to do just about anything to keep his mind in the present and busy. He stroked Flake's thin hair, pleased when Flake's body relaxed at the touch. The man's thin, sinewy arm stayed draped across Schneider's chest.

Feeling his eyes finally growing heavy, Schneider turned to face Flake, careful to keep from jostling him too much as he flipped over. He moved Flake's arm to slide around his waist, and his head to settle into the crook of Schneider's neck. Flake was deeply asleep now, and Schneider almost felt guilty pulling the man to him. 

He knew Flake needed the closeness, but he couldn't understand why he felt so… so *good* about doing it. He wasn't aroused, and he wasn't doing it to make himself feel better. It just, somehow, felt right to comfort and care for Flake like this; to protect him and soothe him in the midst of his difficult sleep.

Schneider drifted off to sleep as well, his arms having made their way around Flake's body when he felt the man shudder in his sleep. His touch had stilled Flake, and Schneider's last thought was a musing about the bizarre feelings in his chest at the knowledge that he'd kept Flake safe.


	19. Too Strong a Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard comes back in a bad mood, which is mirrored with Till's bad mood. Two bad moods do not a good mood make.

Richard got back to the hotel in a frustrated mood. Kayleigh was forced to cut their night short, as her mother had been taken to the hospital for chest pain. Richard had wanted to take her out through one of his favorite parks, looking at the stars and talking together. They'd only managed to get a quick evening coffee before being interrupted. 

He sighed again, for the hundredth time since leaving the park. Kayleigh had parted with a quick peck on the cheek, promising she'd see him after their next show. Richard had offered to give her VIP access, not as an apologetic gesture this time, he'd assured her. She laughed and said she'd think about it before driving off. He'd moped for a minute or two as he waited for a taxi, then remembered Till. He called him and let him know he was on his way back. Till sounded a bit strange on the phone, but said he was glad to hear Richard was coming back so soon.

\------------

After ending the phone call with Richard, Till felt an uncomfortable, upset feeling in his gut. With Schneider gone, he was forced to acknowledge how lonely he felt, and more than that, how Richard had abandoned him when he needed care the most.

Till hated thinking that way, but it wasn't an incorrect thought. On top of it all, he felt guilty for his jealousy, which he now recognized as being both existent and devastating. Till made a conscious effort to suppress both the jealousy and the hurt at Richard's abandoning. In its place, an anger rose that was directed at remembering Richard hiding Schneider's feelings from Till. Why hadn't he said anything about it? Did Richard truly see him as so emotionally incompetent that he couldn't handle knowing Schneider had a crush on him?

His anger seethed, being fed by his auxiliary rampant emotions that he was choosing not to acknowledge. 

When Richard entered the hotel room, his mood only worsened. Seeing the man who'd hidden something from him for who knew how long was infuriating, coupled with the fact that Richard gave him little more than a nod in greeting as he walked in.

"How was your night?" Till asked, his voice tight as he tried to be polite and keep his simmering anger in check.

Richard just shrugged and popped off his boots as he leaned on the wall for balance.  
"Like I said on the phone, Kayleigh had to leave early, so it was shitty."

Once he'd gotten his boots, shirt, and jeans off, he flopped onto his back on the bed next to Till, who scooted away from him slightly. Richard looked up at him in confusion, and saw the fading lines of welts criss-crossed on his naked front.  
"Oh shit, Till. I'm sorry, I forgot all about your chest. Do you want me to help clean you up, put something on it?" Richard sat up to better view the marks. 

Till shook his head once and said in a brusque voice, "No. Schneider took care of it."

Till felt guilty, but gratified to see Richard's face fall when he said that. "He came over and helped me dress the wounds and spent time with me."

An awful satisfaction burned alongside his anger as he watched Richard's brow furrow and his lips press into a frown. 

"Oh. Well, that's good, I suppose. I'm glad he was around for--"

"And you know what's funny?" Till asked, turning to face down at Richard with a fake amusement on his face, but a stone cold tone in his mouth. "He told me about this crazy obsession he's had with me, for years, apparently, and no one else knew about it. Weird, right?"

Till stared hard as he waited for a response. Richard was incredibly uncomfortable, he saw, and fidgeted under his firm gaze. 

"That's, wow," Richard stammered, and Till felt his anger heighten at the feigned suprised from his boyfriend.  
"That is crazy. He hid it well, I guess. What did you say?"

"We had sex," Till said bluntly, knifing at Richard solely to provoke him. He received an incredibly tortured look in return for his jab, and he felt another guilty but satisfied pang at it.  
"He came over, gave me proper aftercare and had sex with me. Then we talked about his infatuation."

Richard looked like he'd swallowed something very bitter, his face screwed up in a pained expression.  
"Oh," he said with his voice choked. "Um, well, I'm glad he was around to--"

"You know what else is funny?" Till said, cutting him off again. "He talked about how he overheard everyone talking about how they knew. How Flake had told everyone that he had a crush on me, and how you were all discussing it at breakfast the other day. Isn't that weird?"

Richard's face was plastered with guilt and shame at being caught in his lie. His hands started trembling, Till saw, but Richard stuck them under his armpits to still them.

He avoided Till's hard glare but spoke up anyway.  
"Till," he whispered, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to say."

"Schneider is in love with you" would have been just fine," Till snarled. "Not even a long sentence."

Richard wilted under the anger in Till's accusing voice.  
"I'm sorry," he said again, barely audible. He glanced up at Till's face, and winced as he saw the man's heavy jaw set in a scowl. He'd not seen Till this upset in a very, very long time, and it made him feel awful. 

Another long moment of uncomfortable silence passed before Till released a heavy breath, and said in a somewhat softer voice, "Fortunately, Schneider realized he just wanted sex, and confused it with love. We parted on good terms, and he isn't obsessed any more. He just needed to come clean about it I think."

The relief that pushed onto Richard's face was almost comical, but Till didn't feel even a little bit amused. Though his anger had dimmed to a low boil, it was still hot and insistent, making his heart thud rapidly in his chest. He pressed his eyes closed and swallowed, trying to take a deep breath to calm himself. He flinched when he felt Richard's hand on his arm. He pulled it away from Richard's touch and glared back over at him. 

Richard seemed stunned at his continued irritation.  
"Till, I don't understand why you're so angry with me," he said. "I know I should have told you, but Flake insisted I let he and Schneider handle it. Plus, it's all sorted now, right? And I'm back for the night, too."

Richard reached out again and Till leveled his gaze at him as he pointedly moved further away on the bed. 

"Till, come on," Richard said, his own irritation beginning to creep up. "Don't do this again. Use your words; tell me why you're so upset. It's not just about Schneider, is it? What's really wrong?"

Till suddenly did not want to be in the room anymore. He stood up from the bed and hunted around the floor for his shirt that he'd discarded earlier. 

"Till," Richard insisted, an edge slipping into his voice as he stood up from the bed too. 

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Till said shortly as he grabbed his tshirt from a nearby chair. 

Something snapped in Richard then. The combination of his frustration with Kayleigh and his growing frustration with Till's lack of communication pissed him off. He stalked over to Till, who was pulling the shirt over his head as Richard walked up. 

Richard's hand flew up and caught Till by the throat, pushing him off balance and into the wall behind him. Though Richard was far smaller, he'd suprised Till and made it easy to subdue him. Till struggled a bit, his eyes shocked as Richard gripped his throat hard. Till sputtered as his airway closed off but Richard didn't notice.

"You're going to fucking talk to me," Richard commanded, his teeth gritted as he pressed even harder into Till's throat. He was in charge now, and slipping into his dominant role seemed so much easier when he was angry. "You're going to tell me what's wrong, and you're going to stay here and learn how to communicate like a normal fucking person."

Till's rasping whisper of their safe word "stop" suddenly made Richard realize he'd gravely fucked up. He dropped his hand as if he'd been burned and hurriedly backed away. Neither of them had ever used their safe word before, and hearing it was just as much a shock as the current expression on Till's face 

Till's eyes were wide and haunted, and he coughed roughly with a hand to his throat when Richard released him. Till began to tremble violently, and Richard felt agonized.

He reached for Till gently. "Oh Till, fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--"

"Stop, stop," Till begged in English with a harsh whisper, repeating his safe word as if it were a life preserver he was clinging to. Till scrambled backward, pressing himself against the wall and away from Richard.

Richard was absolutely devastated and broken seeing what he'd done to the most important person in his world. Till slumped to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees protectively. He shook and trembled, but kept his eyes trained on Richard. 

The terror Richard saw in those eyes pained him more than he could ever have imagined possible. What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he manage to hurt the man he loved so easily?

Richard sank to the floor himself, sitting down hard and burying his head in his hands. 

The two sat like that for a very long time, not speaking or moving. The tension in the air between them was stifling and horrible.

Finally, Till slowly began to stand up. Richard moved his head slightly, but didn't get up as he watched Till carefully walk around him. 

"I need to sleep alone tonight," Till said quietly, keeping the bed between he and Richard. 

Not knowing what else to do or say, Richard simply nodded miserably.  
"Are you going to be okay?" he whispered.

Till shrugged, but said, "Eventually. I just need a night to myself."

"Is there-- is there anything I can do?"

Richard's plea was both an offer of help as well as a question of begging for penance, and Till recognized both. He shook his head, a bit of gentleness returning to his voice as he replied, "No, scholle. Not tonight."

Till picked up his backpack and walked to the door. Before he stepped out, Richard called out in a cracking voice from his spot on the floor, "I love you, Till. I'm sorry."

Till paused halfway through the door, then said without looking back, "I know. Goodnight."

The door closed, and Richard's heart tore in two.


	20. Lonely Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till seeks out advice from two people, only one of whom is conscious enough to answer.

Till plodded down the hallway of the hotel, exhausted and drained. He had stopped shaking once he left the room, feeling his emotions all used up. 

He couldn't wrap his head around what Richard had done. He'd grabbed him, hurt him, without so much as a word of asking or even a warning. He'd been *angry* at him, truly upset, and maybe thought that by roughing him up or pushing him around, Richard would get Till to open up as he did whenever he was punished.

That wasn't punishment, though, Till admitted miserably. Richard had grabbed him in anger, not in love, and Till had felt every little bit of it in the man's tight grip. He may not be one for emotional words, but he could feel emotions physically better than anyone. The anger he felt through Richard's fingers on his neck had shocked and terrified him. The only thing he could think to do was say "stop," something he never anticipated needing to do. Till had pulled away, scared and not knowing what to do except keep repeating "stop" when Richard tried to come closer. 

He'd overreacted, and now Richard was probably just as miserable as he was. It served to make him feel even worse as he paced the hallway. Till was trying to decide whether or not to get his own room for the night or try to call a band mate. Oli was still out of the question as he was with his girlfriend; Schneider was taking care of Flake, and probably asleep by now; Flake was either asleep as well or drunk, and Till didn't want to bother Schneider by intruding in his room; Paul hadn't answered his call earlier, so he assumed he was asleep as well. 

Till sighed and sat down next to the wall of the hallway.  
He pulled out his phone and brought up Flake's number anyway. At the very least, he wanted to get his thoughts down, maybe to talk to him tomorrow about it all; having it written down would help him keep it all collected and able to be talked about in the first place. 

Till's talent lay in writing his thoughts and emotions, and expressing them physically. He just needed time to think and gather them, something that he never seemed to have when he wanted it.

He pulled up a notes app, deciding to write down his thoughts and read them before typing them into a text for his friend.

\-----------

Flake, I need some help. I know you're sleeping or shitfaced right now, so it can wait until tomorrow. I just want to write this all out to clear my head. 

I had a falling out with Richard, and I don't know what to do. It just keeps happening seemingly the same way over and over. I get upset, I have a hard time talking about whatever the fuck I'm upset about, which then makes Richard upset. 

A few times, we've been able to talk after some *roughhousing, like you know. The pain helps me release and speak better, but he's only ever done it when I asked him for it. Richard has been pretty good about not going too far and being respectful, as I've tried to be too. 

Tonight, he didn't even stay afterward, for you know, the aftercare and shit. He gave me a quick kiss and left. It made me so anxious, and I really needed someone there with me.

I called Schneider because everyone else was asleep or gone, and he came over and helped me. Then, after having sex, he finally felt he needed to talk to me intimately. We ended up talking about how he felt about me. He said you all knew, which I won't lie-- pretty pissed about that, still. Why didn't you tell me?

Anyway. That got settled. Turns out he just wanted my dick, not my heart, and having gentler sex showed him it wasn't his thing. It works out well since I'm not big on sharing my heart.

Which brings me back to Richard. I feel like I'm at my wits' end, on every front. I'm jealous (thank Schneider for that revelation), I'm needy, and thanks to my emotional incompetence, Richard is busy chatting with his new girlfriend about my inability to connect with him. That stung, Flake. And I don't know how to fix it. 

I'm worried I'm not enough for him. I'm worried he deserves someone better able to open up to him without needing to be beaten. I'm worried I'll be left for his girlfriend, and I'm worried I've become a terrible person because of my jealousy. I went through his phone, and saw just how little he thinks of me in his conversations with the new girl. He's asking *her* for advice on how to get me to open up to him. I wanted to die when I read that. I felt so crushed that he didn't trust me enough to even *try* to talk to me. I've said a lot, but I don't really even know what kind of help I'm asking for. I don't want to talk to Richard right now. 

I guess I should say what happened tonight. 

When Rich finally came back, after Schneider had left to go take care of you (I hope you're all right, by the way; I'll check on you tomorrow), he didn't even say hello, much less ask about me. He didn't even acknowledge me until I physically moved away from him on our bed. Then he asked about the welts and if I needed him to do any aftercare. 

I lost my temper, and started mouthing off at him, telling him how Schneider had taken care of me and been with me when Richard hadn't. I know I was hurting him, but he'd hurt me too. It seemed fair to return it. I know that was wrong, but I couldn't stop it. I finally told him how we'd talked and settled things, but I was so angry about him hiding that he knew about Doom that I just shut my mouth after awhile and needed to go for a walk. 

Whatever ran through his head then, I don't know, but Richard just, grabbed me. He grabbed my throat and pushed me on the wall, yelling that I was going to stay put and talk. I don't know if he meant it as a dominant thing, but it was so abrupt and out of character... it scared me. Legitimately scared me, Flake. I didn't know it was possible to have someone do to me. 

He choked me until I said our safe word, and he immediately stopped and looked like I'd stabbed him. I think he said sorry, but I didn't want to hear it. I cowered away and didn't look at him for a really long time. Then, I told him I needed the night away, and now I'm sitting in the hallway trying to figure out how to fix all the fuckups. 

I wish you were awake to yell at me and tell me what an idiot I'm being, and show me how to fix everything. You're so good at pinpointing things that never occurred to me and giving practical solutions.

I can hear you in my head, though. Telling me to grow a pair and go back to talk to Richard. Luckily you're not here to give me a condescending look to try and shame me, because I really can't go back to him tonight. And now I picture you sniffing and pushing up your glasses as you tell me that you're not the only friend I have. And, you're right. 

So at the risk of sounding insane or like I'm talking to a dead wife, I'll take your non-existent but probable advice and see if I can rouse Paul to talk to. 

Thank you, Flake, even though you're probably drunkenly passed out in your own spit on your pillow. I'll text you tomorrow.

\--------

Though he'd been dead asleep, Paul eventually came to the door at Till's insistent knocking, disheveled and eyes almost still closed. Till apologized for intruding so late, but when he asked if he could talk, Paul welcomed him in with a grunt and a half-awake hug when Till walked inside the room. 

It looked as though Paul's suitcase had exploded, with his clothes and random accessories scattered across the desk, chair, and couch in the room. Till smiled a bit at the mess. It was very "Paul" in this room, and it made him feel comfortable. 

After a polite offering of a drink, which Till declined, Paul then brushed aside some clothes off a chair for him to sit while he climbed back onto the bed. 

"What's on your mind?" Paul asked sincerely.

Till was thrown back several weeks to when Paul had asked him the same question, but back then, he already knew the answer. This time, Till knew he had no idea. 

"I just need a little advice, I think," Till said hesitantly. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to think of what to say. Paul just sat quietly and waited for him to gather his thoughts. 

"This is going to sound dumb, but can I just let you read a text I wrote for Flake? He's asleep, but I wrote down what all happened, and I think it would be easier for you to read than me to try and say everything."

"Yeah, of course," Paul agreed, holding his hand out for Till's phone. 

After deleting the segments about he and Schneider having sex, as he didn't feel it was his place to let Paul know about it, he passed the phone over.

Till watched as Paul read carefully, seeing his nose scrunch in places and his eyes crinkle into smiles in other places. He could tell when Paul read about Schneider's interest, as he blushed a bit. Paul must have known as well, Till thought a bit disgruntled, but brushed the irritation aside. He'd come for advice, not to get angry again. 

After a few minutes, Paul looked up from the phone and handed it back.  
"That's, well… that's pretty shitty," he finally decided, causing Till to chuckle at his conclusion.

"I agree."

Paul yawned and stretched, then shuffled himself into his blankets and gave Till his full attention as he settled in for a discussion.  
"Out of everything you wrote, what is making you most upset?"

Till had to think about that for a minute.  
"I guess that I'm scared Richard will realize I'm not enough for him."

"And you think he'll come to that conclusion because, what was it, you aren't open enough with him? Not emotional enough?"

Till waved his hand in a back and forth motion.  
"Somewhat that, yeah. It's a combination of things. I think he needs someone who can connect with him better, emotionally. I'm just fine with anything physical; it's just how I work. But emotionally… it's so hard for me. I never feel like I know what to do."

"Have you asked Richard to help you?" Paul suggested. "If he's better at that, then he should be trying to teach you and help you get better with it."

"Well, sort of. He uses… "other" tactics to get me to open up and talk." Till was a bit uncomfortable detailing his private affairs like that, even with someone as close to him as a band mate. 

Paul seemed to take the hint though, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "But like you said in the text, that can only go so far, right? Especially if Richard isn't doing it properly, which seems to be the case. I think you need more help that's just talking. It may be hard, it may be awkward, hell-- you may not even know what to do at all, but that's what Richard is supposed to help with. Just like you need to apparently teach Richard more about your, well, physical relationship, Richard needs to teach you about your emotional one. He can't just default to hurting you when he doesn't know what you need to say, especially when he's so inexperienced. You both have your strengths and your weaknesses; you just have to recognize and help one another with them, ja?"

Till nodded very slowly. He was glad he'd come to Paul tonight. The man made sense, and his assessment was spot-on. It seemed like such a simple thing, in retrospect: helping and building up each other where the other was lacking. It would be a symbiosis, of two beings supplementing their intertwined lives. It made so much sense. 

And yet…

"That's a lot easier said than done, Paul," Till said hesitantly. 

Paul blew air out of his cheeks and raised his eyebrows.  
"It absolutely is hard. No one ever said relationships were easy. If they did, they're lying. But putting work into them makes them so much more satisfying, because you both get to see your hard work in action as you grow together."

Till pondered that for a moment, and found that yet again, Paul made perfect sense. 

"You're right," Till admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

Paul smiled at the concession.  
"I know it's easy for someone to sit and assess someone else's relationship, when the reality is usually a lot harder to grapple with. I just know what I've seen in my own ones, so that's the advice I go with."

"I appreciate it, Paul. I'm sorry I woke you, but I'm extremely grateful I did."

Paul waved a hand dismissively, but yawned as he did so.  
"Do you need to crash here for tonight?"

With a hesitant nod, Till said, "Ja, I think that would be for the best. I'll get back and speak with Richard tomorrow after I've gotten a good rest."

"That's always a good idea," Paul said, rolling out of bed and over to the couch. 

"Don't worry about making up a bed, Paul," Till insisted. "I'm just as comfortable on the floor."

"Don't be ridiculous," Paul grunted as he yanked at the bottom of the couch. A folded mattress suddenly sprang out, and Till saw the couch was actually a fold-out.  
"I'll sleep over here. You take the bed."

"Absolutely not. I'm a guest in *your* room. I'll take the pull out bed, thank you."

After setting several pillows and blankets across it, Paul looked over at Till's serious face and sighed, knowing he'd not be winning that argument. 

"Fine, but if you start snoring, I'm folding you back up into the couch," he teased as Till made his way over to the makeshift bed.

"That's fine," Till chuckled. "Thank you again, Paul."

Paul smiled broadly at him and patted his shoulder, then pulled him into a warm hug.  
"Anytime. I'll always do my best to help my friends be happy."

As Till settled in under the blankets while Paul switched off the lights, he was struck by how odd it now felt to be alone in a bed. His back felt cold in the space normally occupied by Richard's warm, clinging body and he heaved a sigh. He sincerely hoped both he and Richard would be willing to talk tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to take another moment and thank you all for reading along and staying invested in this story with me <3 you and your comments and criticisms mean the world to me.
> 
> If you ever want to chat, have more in-depth questions or comments about the story or anything at all really, please feel free to message me on tumblr! My name there is nikonothere as well!


	21. Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake and Schneider discuss what to do for Till and Richard

Schneider was dreaming, or at least he figured as much since he was busy spooning and kissing at the neck of one of his early ex-girlfriends. Based on the fact that she wasn't throwing things at him, Schneider concluded that, yes, this was most definitely a dream. 

He didn't care. It felt good, regardless of whatever ex it was invading his subconscious. He licked at her neck and pulled her body closer to him on the bed, pressing her back to his chest. Her skin was soft, but her muscles were taut and sinewy. Schneider leisurely kissed and licked, enjoying the slowly increasing warmth in his abdomen. It had been so long since he'd had such a vivid, pleasant dream. He pushed his hips to her backside, pressing his erection against her ass and began to grind. The friction was heavenly--

Schneider jolted awake, though his brain stayed foggy in the transition from dream to reality. It took him several moments to register where he was and why he'd woken up so suddenly. He felt some light kicking at his legs as he was pushed around on the bed.

"…because you let me sleep in your bed doesn't mean you have a free pass to put your dick in my ass," he pieced together Flake's annoyed voice. Schneider looked over to see a disheveled Flake scooting away from his grasp in bed. Schneider's eyes widened and he looked down to see not only the stiffness in his boxers but a large damp spot as well. His face instantly caught fire with embarrassment.

"Oh my God, Flake, I'm so sorry," he said as he shamefully buried his face into his pillow. "I was having a dream about my ex, fuck me, I'm sorry," he rambled, praying for a bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery.

"No, the issue is *you* trying to fuck *me*," Flake corrected, and Schneider was relieved to hear a sassy, teasing tone in his voice. It eased his embarrassment somewhat, though he was careful to keep below his waist covered under the blankets for the time being. Flake rubbed his eyes sleepily and then gave a grumpy hmph. He wiped his ass with the sheet and then tossed it directly into Schneider's face. 

Schneider threw the messed sheet aside and raised his head, almost laughing at how red Flake himself was as he stood up from the bed and hunted around for his underwear. The man blushed not only on his face and neck, but Schneider saw crimson patches creep down his back and chest as well. It was terribly funny.

"Though with an ass and balls like that, who could restrain themselves?" Schneider quipped as Flake bent over to get the briefs he'd apparently kicked off in the night. 

Flake turned his head and glared at him, but with the tiniest hint of an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"You call me princess, throw me around the bed, let me drink more than I should, try to fuck me while I'm asleep, and then compliment my balls; be careful, Christoph, I might fall for you."

Schneider snickered as Flake pulled his underwear and pants up. A long time ago when they'd first gotten to know one another, he used to wonder why Flake preferred briefs over boxers. They saw one another in various stages of undress constantly, so Schneider had asked. He himself preferred boxers, as they were roomy and breathable, and only wore briefs if his stage costumes demanded it. In response to his question and never one for being shy around his friends, Flake had dropped his pants and put his hands on his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly.

The man's balls were enormous. Flake had guffawed at his astonished look as he pulled his pants back up and explained how if he didn't wear briefs, he ran the risk of "things getting too jostled." Schneider had never brought it up again as the memory had been burned plenty vividly in his mind, but every so often he still chuckled at the memory and hinted at it jokingly. It was hilarious what did and did not shame their keyboardist. He loved being naked, so long as he was either alone or only surrounded by very close friends, or outside. If they were back in his hometown, it was a pretty good guess that if Flake were out for a walk in a certain area, he was likely naked. 

Schneider rolled out of bed, still careful to keep his front turned away from Flake as he dug in his backpack for a fresh pair of boxers. 

"You hungover at all?" he asked over his shoulder as Flake put a shirt on. 

"Somewhat. I have a headache, but I've had worse. I'm mostly just hungry."

"Likewise. Think anyone else will be up for breakfast?"

When Flake didn't answer, Schneider turned his head to repeat himself, but saw Flake's face scrunched into a focused look as he stared at his phone.

"Everything ok?"

Flake didn't reply for another minute or two, then sighed and pocketed his phone. 

"Not sure. Till and Richard had a falling out last night, I guess."

Schneider felt a bit concerned and wondered if he had any part in it. 

As if reading his mind, Flake assured, "Doesn't have to do with you. I think Richard needs to be sat down and talked to."

"I don't think Till can do that very easily," Schneider quipped as he found a nice button down and jeans to wear. 

"No he can't," Flake agreed. "He couldn't even talk to me very easily about it. He wrote me a book in text message form instead."

"Is he okay?"

"Yes. He went to Paul last night after his little falling out. Paul will have talked some sense into him, I'm sure. Now it just leaves Richard."

Schneider scratched his head. "Do you think Till will talk to Richard? How bad was the falling out?"

Flake grimaced. "It sounded bad. Till may need a day before he's ready to talk."

"Maybe you should talk to him," Schneider suggested. "Till went to you with the issues, so maybe he thinks you'd be able to help them too."

Flake mused on that for a moment before he spoke again, saying thoughtfully, "That's not a terrible idea, actually."

"I do get good ideas on rare occasions," Schneider quipped as he pulled on some shoes. "But before any of that, we need breakfast."

"We?" Flake raised an eyebrow at him as he threw on his rumpled clothes from the night before. Flake's wrinkled getup was a stark contrast to Schneider's clean, well-pressed clothes, and very far from Flake's normal tidy appearance.

"Yes, "we." You owe me for babysitting you last night and for this," he pointed at his slightly swollen lip.  
"Which still hurts by the way."

"So rubbing against my ass wasn't payment enough for all that? I'm truly hurt, Christoph."

"I'll slap you upside the head again, Lorenz. See if I don't."

"Fine. My head is too sore for slapping, so I guess I can get you breakfast."

"After you, Fräulein," Schneider grinned as he opened the door with a sweeping bow.

Flake rolled his eyes hard as he walked out the door, but paused directly in front of Schneider for a moment. He took a step back and thrust his ass hard into Schneider's crotch, receiving a startled yelp in return for the movement. Flake grinned wickedly and strolled out of the room with his hands in his pockets.

"Come on, prince," he called from the hallway.

Schneider blinked, and then shook his head in disbelief. Flake was the worst, he decided with a grin he couldn't stop as he followed the weird man down to breakfast.

\------------

"I think he needs to be told how important his role in the relationship is."

Flake and Schneider were at the hotel's breakfast bar, much to Schneider's begrudgement. But Flake had seen fresh Danish pastries and would not be dissuaded, promising to take Schneider to lunch later, instead. 

"Isn't that Till's job?" Schneider asked with a mouthful of food. 

"Don't talk while you're eating, and normally yes. But I think Till might have a bit of a barrier there that Richard needs to help him pull down."

Schneider chewed the rest of his mouthful and swallowed with an annoyed, pointed look at Flake before he continued. Flake pretended not to notice.  
"How do you mean "pull down?" What wall?"

"Believe it or not, Till hates being a bother."

"Right. I don't believe it," Schneider chuckled.

"He hides it well. But he thinks that asking for proper aftercare, safe punishment, all of that is being too much of a bother, or like he's asking too much. He's worried Richard will see that as annoying, or too needy."

Schneider nodded in understanding. He'd not felt that very much personally, but he could see how it could come off that way.

"How do you think I should go about talking to him?" Flake asked, having finished his danish and both folded and set his napkin properly across his plate.

Schneider was a bit stunned. Since when had Flake cared for *his* opinion? He faltered at the question for a moment.  
"Well, if it's a problem with him not understanding the importance of full care in situations like that, I'd say that's probably the best place to start. Letting him know that not only is it vital for any relationship, it's especially important for Till since he has trouble asking for anything for himself."

Flake's brow knit together pensively and Schneider watched him bounce his leg on the floor. He did that when he was thinking hard, both in the studio and in his day to day life.  
"That's probably a good way to do it," Flake agreed. "Once Richard is made aware of the difficulty Till has, and that it's so important to him, I think that will help him keep his priorities in order."

Schneider grunted at that. "Yeah. He can't leave Till like that anymore. That was a very dick thing to do."

Flake nodded, a flush of color spreading on his neck that Schneider recognized as anger. He was again suprised. Flake almost never allowed himself to express visible emotions while out and about, especially negative ones. But he felt the same way, so he understood. 

"Don't worry," Schneider offered, hoping to ease Flake's irritation. "Once he realizes what Till needs, and that he's the one who needs to help him, I think he'll step up."

Flake nodded slowly, then sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.  
"You're right. Thank you, Christoph."

Schneider beamed at the implied praise. Flake so rarely doled out thanks in that manner, and it warmed Schneider's insides to hear it. Flake was being uncharacteristically open with him, and he was grateful for that. It made him feel needed, and important somehow.

And just as soon as he recognized that feeling, Flake caught his happy gaze and said snarkily, "Don't let it go to your head, Prince. Remember that *you're* the one who had a wet dream all over my ass. Keep that ego in check."

Schneider's mouth fell open as his face blushed, yet again. 

Flake gave him a placating smile as he patted Schneider's hand.  
"I'm off to talk some sense into Richard. Be ready for lunch at 1 or you forfeit your right for me to buy it for you."

With that, Flake stood up from the breakfast table and walked off to the elevators, leaving Schneider feeling both embarrassed, but somehow still pleased at Flake's words of praise and shaming.


	22. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake gives Richard some sage advice, and emphasizes Richard's new responsibilities

Flake rapped at Richard's door, hoping he was both awake and still in his room. He hadn't bothered to call or text, knowing Richard tended to stay comatose until about noon anyway and never answered his phone.

A very rough looking Richard answered the door, his hair matted and sticking out at weird angles and his face covered in sleep lines. He had on just his boxers and squinted at the bright light from the hallway. The man looked like he'd barely slept, if at all.

Richard sighed when he saw Flake, but waved him inside without a word. He knew why Flake was there.

He flipped on a light as he slunk back to the bed and flopped down face-first onto it. 

"Go ahead," he said in a voice muffled by blankets. "Yell at me and tell me how stupid I am. I guarantee I've yelled it all at myself at least 5 times already."

"I'm not going to yell; I'm not Schneider," Flake informed. 

Richard snorted. "I deserve it, though."

"Maybe. It was a very hurtful thing to leave Till like that yesterday, and even more so to abuse your dominant role to get out of talking and having mature conversations."

Richard sat up and nodded miserably.

"You're nodding, but do you really understand? I'm sure you have some idea about it, but I really don't think you know just how hurtful that was. Till lives his life based on physical contact, whether that be from whatever stage antics he proposes, or his fondness for groupies, or his relationship with you. Everything revolves around varying levels of touch. It's so tightly wound into his spirit, that when he feels he's lacking it, he'll go to stupid lengths to get it back, as you saw with Schneider."

As Flake paused for a moment, Richard was letting his words sink in. He felt rightfully shamed and hung his head, quietly waiting for Flake to continue. 

"Schneider shouldn't have been the one to take care of him. We're lucky it turned out the way it did, and that he realized his affinity for Till was just a surface level thing. That could easily have turned into a clusterfuck that I'm not sure you two could have recovered from. On top of all that, Till has trusted you with being the one to give him punishment, *when he asks for it,*" Flake strongly emphasized that point by poking a finger into his open palm.

Richard winced at the accusation, but took it silently.

"You severely broke his trust in you when you pushed him around like that. Now, he probably won't tell you that because he's both proud and afraid to be a bother; it's an interesting irony that I don't have time to get into right now. But I know that you know it was an awful thing to do to him. You scared him, Richard."

Flake saw Richard's chin tremble from his words, but knew he needed to be sure the man fully understood.

"You have a responsibility here that I'm not sure you quite grasp just yet; that's why I keep harping on it," Flake said, his voice a bit gentler as he noted Richard's eyes brimming with deserved tears.  
"When you take on the role of being someone's dominant, especially someone as physically ingrained as Till, your responsibility is to not only do as they ask, but to do what they *don't* ask, yet still need."

Richard pushed the heel of his palm into one of his eyes and rubbed hard, trying to wipe off the impending tears.  
"If he doesn't ask, how do I know what he needs?" Richard asked, his voice somewhat shaky. "I tried assuming what he needed, and obviously that was completely wrong."

Flake shook his head. "You didn't assume what he needed; you just lashed out in anger and grabbed at what you thought was an easy out, rather than having a reasonable talk. I know in this particular instance, it wasn't all you either. Till was being a prick, but you have to understand it was because he was hurting. You left him when you should have stayed, at the very least until he was comfortable again."

Richard wished he could speak up and defend his actions, but he knew everything Flake said was the truth, and it stung badly. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes before the tears started flowing in earnest.

"I'm sorry," Richard whispered, and Flake felt saddened for him. It had been a mistake, and Flake didn't necessarily blame him for that. This was all new to him, as well as for Till. There were bound to be mistakes and missteps all along the way, especially with a relationship that involved the intricacies of BDSM. 

Flake was no stranger to that world, though his sex life had certainly slowed in the past few years. Lately he'd made excuses, been too tired, busy, or disinterested to pursue anything. But back in the day, when they'd just started making it big as a band, Flake had been a maniac. There wasn't one evening he was alone, and from his gung ho attitude exploded several years of intense sexual exploration and adventure. Perhaps that amount of intensity was what had calmed him later in life. He'd already gotten the crazy out of his system and felt less need for it now. 

Regardless, he knew his way around a serious BDSM relationship, so he felt very confident and comfortable giving advice to Till and Richard on that front. 

"It's ok," Flake comforted. "You just need to be aware of all of this is all. Till in particular needs special care and attention when he is either unable or afraid to ask things for himself. That duty used to be on me, but now it falls to you as his partner. I'll help you where I can, of course, but you'll need to learn how to asses things for yourself if you want this relationship to go anywhere."

Richard nodded quickly, and Flake smiled gently at that. He knew Richard had always meant well, and would pursue the task of helping and understanding Till eagerly.

"How do I start?" Richard's voice was determined, but a bit unsure.

"You're a very perceptive man, Richard. That works greatly in your favor here. You know when Till is feeling off or needs something, almost instinctually I'd wager. You just need to pay attention to those feelings and learn how to coax specifics from him. It'll take some time for Till to learn both how to communicate in specifics that way, as well as to learn that he isn't a bother to you. Last night damaged that a bit, but Till loves you. You'll gain his trust back quickly. One thing I do recommend for the immediate future is to keep any conversations and advice you seek from other people private."

Richard looked puzzled, then abashed as he realized what Flake meant.  
"Oh. He must have been on my phone."

Flake nodded and Richard rubbed his face wearily.  
"You're right. It's just easy to vent when you have someone on the same emotional wavelength."

"I know, trust me," Flake assured. "Till is very difficult to confide in and understand sometimes. But he should still be your first confidante and person you go to. He needs to know you trust him enough to at least try to help and understand him. Right now he doesn't, and it's making him both jealous and insecure."

Richard's brow furrowed. "Insecure? How? The jealousy I had a small inkling about. I knew he wasn't upset just because I didn't tell him about Schneider."

Flake groaned. "Well, first, I think you need to speak to Till about the insecurity. As for Schneider, I take full responsibility there. I should have let you talk to him. It wasn't my place to make that call, and I should have trusted you and Till to be able to talk it out like adults, and I'm sorry I didn't. I was arrogant in thinking that I was the only one who understood him enough to talk to him about it."

Richard shrugged and said, "It doesn't matter anymore, I guess. He said Schneider sort of changed his mind?"

"It seems that way," Flake said with a chuckle. 

"Did Till tell you?"

"Till and Schneider himself, yes, though I was quite drunk when Schneider talked about it. Something about him realizing they weren't romantically compatible, I think." Flake waved a hand dismissively and Richard didn't press the subject. He would talk to Till about it later. 

Which made him wonder, "Should I try to go talk to him now and apologize?"

Flake rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Did he come back to the room last night or this morning?"

Richard shook his head. 

"In that case, I'd just leave him for a bit. He texted me about everything that happened last night, and based on what he said, I would wait until he comes to you first. I'll reach out to him and check to make sure he's all right if you like."

"I would, thank you Flake," Richard said gratefully. 

Flake smiled at Richard, a genuine, caring smile that Richard greatly appreciated. Flake wasn't much for showing physical affection, but his sincere smiles were things to be treasured.  
"You'll be fine. You two are far too good for one another to have a falling out last for too long. Don't worry."

After nodding, Richard got up to open the curtains to let the daylight inside the dim room while Flake looked over at the bedside clock. 

"I have to go get ready for a lunch date," Flake said, standing up and brushing his pants in an unconscious attempt to smooth some wrinkles.

Richard's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? And who's the lucky lady?"

Flake chuckled and shook his head as he corrected, "Nein, just Schneider. I owe him for drunk babysitting."

Richard crossed his arms with a huff.  
"What about all the times I drunk babysat you? Where's *my* lunch date?"

With a shrug, Flake said, "You didn't grope me or try to fuck me in your sleep. Apparently I'm attracted to men who do. 

Richard's mouth dropped open, and he felt sure Flake would fall over from how hard he started laughing. Richard snapped his mouth closed and glared at him, but felt himself smiling despite his pretend annoyance.  
"That's not funny, Flake."

"Obviously it's hilarious," Flake gasped between laughs with tears in his eyes. He finally gathered himself and went to the door, still chuckling intermittently. He turned before leaving the room and said to Richard, "By the way, don't mention that to Schneider. He's quite embarrassed that he came all over me in his sleep."

Flake let the door slam on his way out, and Richard started cackling at the thought.


	23. Routines and Fashion Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake is a very meticulous person, with very meticulous habits and preferences.

Flake was meticulous in his shower routine. First, he always turned the water on full hot and waited five minutes, ensuring it was as hot as it could possibly get. Then, he moved the handle so that it was in the exact middle of the hot and cold. That gave him a good starting point for figuring out the perfect temperature. From there, he precisely moved the handle until it was at the exact temperature he wanted: not too hot, but warm enough to give a bit of a sting when he first got in. 

Once he'd settled on the right temperature, he would take his clothes off, careful not to let his feet leave the bath mat and touch the bare floor. He hated the feeling of bathroom floors on his bare feet. He would fold his clothes, even if they were dirty, and place them on the counter before gently stepping into the shower. 

He would spend just about 5 minutes simply standing and decompressing under the pelting droplets, allowing his head to drop under the water to let rivers of water run down his face and neck. This soothed him, and he found the warm trails of water comforting in a way. After spending his time "soaking," he would wash his hair first, both on his head and elsewhere on his body, including his armpits and groin. 

After thoroughly washing and conditioning, he would switch over to shaving. He never shaved with anything except one specific single bladed safety razor and particular brand of shaving cream. Flake wasn't an especially hairy man, but the act of shaving his face made him feel quite manly for some reason. He also took great care shaving around his groin and backside. While he normally preferred to leave the hair in his nether regions alone, their performances of Bück Dich demanded he keep that area spotless and shining; or at least his ego did. If thousands of people were going to stare up at his exposed ass and balls, they might as well look nice, he reasoned. He'd become quite efficient at shaving around his various curves and wrinkles, and now could get it all perfectly smooth in under 2 minutes. 

Once he'd finished that and rinsed off all the shaving cream, he washed his face and his groin with the same type of exfoliating soap. It ensured he didn't get any razor burn and kept his face and backside very smooth. Then came the body wash, which he applied with a towel instead of a loofah or other abrasive scrubber. His skin was rather sensitive, and he discovered that scratchy scrubbers left his skin raw and uncomfortable so he could only use soft wash cloths.

After a thorough scrubbing and rinse down, Flake finally felt clean. He turned the shower off and wiped off excess water droplets from his skin before getting out. He hated water puddles on the bathroom floor. He meticulously dried every inch of his body until he didn't feel damp anymore. Then, he was finally ready to get dressed.

For some reason Flake had an even harder time than usual deciding on an outfit. He knew he wanted to wear his favorite trilby hat, but unfortunately most of his clothes matched quite well with it. Flake's eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated his options. He wanted to look well-groomed, but not overdressed. A stray thought made him wonder if Richard spent this much time on his outfits as well. He was the only one Flake knew rivaled him in his feelings of self importance based on his appearance. 

After a few more minutes of deliberation, Flake settled on a black short sleeved button down, a navy blue undershirt and some dark slacks. In his own opinion, he thought to himself as he smoothed his shirt in the mirror, he looked pretty damn good.

Flake didn't necessarily have an ego problem; he just knew when he looked particularly nice, which really wasn't often, he was willing to admit. That made the times he *did* look good especially noteworthy.

Once he felt completely satisfied with his appearance, Flake checked his watch. He was pleased to see that his sense of time was as impeccable as ever. He had ten minutes to spare before needing to meet up with Schneider.

The thought of his band mate made him ponder. He hoped his teasing of the man's accidental orgasm wasn't too strong. Flake would kill for a good crude joke, which was part of the reason he and Till had first gotten along so well. The two bonded over their love of immature toilet humor, and that love had continued and strengthened itself over the years. The problem was sometimes his snark got out of hand, and he ended up with an offended friend and his foot shoved deep into his mouth. 

That didn't seem to be the case this time. Flake had watched Schneider carefully, ready to apologize and back off if he accidentally crossed a line. Thankfully, Schneider seemed to be just as amused by the taunting as he was, even with the prince/princess banter. A sense of satisfaction filled Flake as he pulled on his shoes. He would have to see how far Schneider let him take his jokes, then. 

\----------

Flake noted as he sipped his coffee that Schneider's clothing style was almost always exceptional. Compared to the others, Schneider was by far the classiest, he thought, studying the man's current outfit. He was currently wearing a black long sleeved shirt, his brown leather jacket and a very complementary black and white checkered scarf. His pants were slightly faded jeans, but were fitted perfectly. It was an excellent combination.

While Richard might be more obsessive in the style department, his personal style was far from what Flake considered "good," in his own tastes, at least. Richard was a punk rocker stuck in the early 2000's, which suited him quite well, but wasn't aesthetically pleasing in Flake's mind. Black, red, and leather were his go-to. 

Oli had good style, thanks in part to his girlfriend who was an actual clothing stylist, but his style was very strongly athletic and comfortable rather than upscale or what Flake saw as higher fashion. His slightly baggy jeans and long sleeved sweaters were always tasteful.

Paul's Burberry sweaters were the only things that jumped out at Flake as being even close to "classy." Otherwise, he wore whatever sounded like a good idea, and it was almost always wrinkled to hell and back. 

Till, well-- Till liked expensive clothes with skulls on them. Of the whole band, Flake turned his nose up most at Till's sense of "fashion." Black on black was all he ever wore, though lately he'd been experimenting with leather as well. Flake blamed Richard for that.

On the stark contrasting side of things, Schneider dressed to kill when he put his mind to it, which was with some frequency. His clothes always seemed to have perfectly tailored slim fits and classy aesthetics. He dressed up more when he was newly single, too.

That thought made Flake grimace in sympathy as he ate his potatoes. Schneider didn't seem to notice though. He was finishing up detailing his opinion on Richard's response to Flake's confrontation, which Flake had explained for him as they waited for their food.

"Which I think is good," Schneider concluded, wiping his mouth with his napkin before setting it back in his lap. Flake appreciated his manners.  
"Richard will do just fine now that he knows the gravity of his responsibilities."

Flake nodded in agreement. "I think so as well. And once he reads Till's side of it all, I think it will have been made concrete for him."

"Reads?"

"Yes. I recommended over text that Till write Richard a letter, as he did to me. He's much more able to express himself clearly through written--or I suppose texted--words, and I think it would help Richard immensely to read it.

"Huh. Yeah, that's true. That's a good thought, Flake. Nice work."

Flake grinned awkwardly as Schneider dug into his own plate of food. He was always awkward when compliments were leveled at him, and he preferred to change the topic.  
"So, I know I didn't go into it much last night because I was busy being drunk," Flake started, "but how are you feeling? After that ordeal with Till, I mean."

Schneider made a face that Flake couldn't quite interpret.  
"It's, well…" he thought for a moment before continuing, "I suppose it's fine. It's honestly not much of anything at this point. I don't feel especially bad, but I also don't feel very good? It's more neutral. I don't know how to explain it very well. It's nice to have the burden of obsession gone, but in a way, I sort of miss the idea of thinking I was interested, you know?"

"I do," Flake said, nodding. "It's a bit of a lonely feeling when you lose that, even if it isn't love. Lust when lost can still be saddening."

"I guess that's a good part of it. Not having that outlet is always harder."

Flake smirked as he said, "Yes. Then your outlets end up going elsewhere; apparently on my ass."

Schneider grinned back and kicked at Flake's leg under the table. He missed, and Flaked started giggling at his frustration.

"Well what about you, *princess,*" Schneider mocked. I've not seen you with any women lately. Going through a dry spell?"

Flake's giggling halted as red began creeping into his cheeks. Schneider seemed smug about that. 

"No. I've been perfectly content on my own during this tour, thank you very much."

Schneider pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows at that.  
"You sure? Coulda sworn I've seen you "appreciating the view" at the afterparties."

Flake reddened further and made a disgruntled noise.  
"I've been just fine, and I'm mildly offended that you think I appreciate people only for their bodies."

Schneider grinned broadly at Flake's discomfort.  
"People? Not "women"? You didn't peg me as the bisexual type, Flake."

Flake's blush deepened and spread all the way to his ears. Schneider was giddy. Being able to push Flake's buttons made him happier than almost anything, as it was difficult to do most times. He had no idea why it was so much easier as of late. Perhaps he felt bad for Schneider.

"And you don't peg me as the type to try and fuck someone you're babysitting while asleep, yet here we are."

So much for that theory.

Schneider snickered at that as Flake laughed his awkward little chuckle. "You're right. I'll make sure to wake you up next time, Princess."

Schneider was satisfied that he could see Flake's blush had once again spread to his chest. He felt immensely pleased at his ribbing.  
"Thank you for lunch, Flake," he said seriously as he finished the last of his meal. "It's not often we get to spend time together without the threat of the band imploding hanging over our heads. This is nice."

Flake maintained his flushed appearance, and now added an uncomfortable clearing of his throat to his awkwardness. That puzzled Schneider. Was he that embarrassed by the teasing? Surely he wouldn't have brought it up so much if so. He did seem to have a hard time accepting compliments, so maybe that was it.

"What have you got planned before rehearsal?"

Flake seemed relieved at the topic change.  
"I plan on doing absolutely nothing. Sitting in my hotel room and reading while attempting to not think about drama for a few hours. Till should be writing and giving his little note to Richard, and they'll be back to normal before tonight."

"You sound so confident."

"I am. I know Till, and seeing him with Richard is, well, comforting. They're good for one another, and it's very obvious."

Schneider had to concede that point.  
"I was worried at first, but they really are."

"Now if I can find someone twice as cute and half as dramatic, I'll be in business," Flake quipped.

"I knew it!" Schneider exclaimed. "You *are* in a dry spell."

Flake scowled at him and sniffed, standing up from the table as he'd just finished his food as well.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't worry, Flake; I'll help you find a nice groupie at the afterparties. In the meantime, I'll make sure to wake you before I decide to accidentally fuck you next time."

Flake shoved him almost into the door as they left the restaurant, much to Schneider's laughing delight.


	24. The Power of the Written Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till pours his heart into a letter for Richard.

As he finished scribbling down the last words of the note, Till asked himself for the 100th time if this was really the best idea. He could just knock and ask to speak to Richard. He had that option. 

Till sighed pitifully. He had the option, but lacked the ability. He knew Flake was right yet again, and that this was his best option for communicating deeply and precisely as he needed to. He desperately wanted this relationship to work, and for that, he needed clarity; the kind of clarity that only seemed to come when his pen met paper. He didn't have to worry about losing his train of thought midsentence, having to fumble around until he found the right word, and most importantly, he could take all the time he needed to detail his emotions. 

After another quick look-over, Till grunted in satisfaction and folded the papers. His handwriting was atrocious, but he knew Richard could read it fine. Paul had given him his room for the day to compose his note while Paul left on some errands in town. Till had scavenged paper from the complimentary hotel stationary. He'd wished he'd thought ahead so he could buy some proper paper, but this would do.

He had spent nearly an hour crafting the note. He had silenced his phone and with some regret, ignored several messages from Richard. He took his time, writing carefully, in as much detail as he could possibly manage. Till wanted Richard to see into his heart as clearly (or hopefully more clearly) than Till did himself. It was a daunting endeavor, but he pushed himself. Richard was worth the strain and discomfort of putting feelings and desires into words, however awkward it felt.

Till took the folded papers and stepped out into the hallway, stretching his cramped back as he did so. His and Richard's room was only a few doors down, next to a pillar in the hallway. Feeling foolish for some reason, Till slid the papers under the door and knocked. He walked to the other side of the pillar and sat down against it, preferring Richard not see him if he opened the door. He felt like a school child passing love letters to a crush, though the sweet innocence and happy feeling of excited love was missing.

\----------

After Flake had left, Richard fitfully tried to get any little bit of sleep he could before their rehearsal that evening. He knew he'd be irritable if not, especially if he couldn't get ahold of Till. Flake had told him to leave Till alone for awhile, but Richard just couldn't. He'd texted him probably five times since Flake's advising, but received no answer. He'd begged for Till to come talk to him, or let him go to Till to talk, but nothing. 

Richard felt so alone and tormented. He wanted to hug Till, apologize for anything and everything, even things that hadn't been his fault if that's what it took. He just wanted his lover back and happy again. 

As much as he wanted to cry, Richard was too tired. He couldn't sleep either, so he stared at the dark ceiling of the hotel room.

A very light knock made him jump. He slid out of bed and went to the door, but stopped as he grabbed the handle when paper crinkled under his foot. Richard looked down and saw some folded papers had been slid under the door into his room. Puzzled, he picked them up and started reading what he recognized as Till's handwriting. 

"Dear Richard,"

\------

Till gnawed on a fingernail until it bled. He had no idea how fast Richard could read, and not knowing what his reaction was going to be was killing him. He grunted and moved on to the next fingernail.

\------

"I have no clue if this is even a good idea. Flake recommended I try putting my emotions and feelings and explanations into written words, since I have a bit of an easier time with that than talking. He's probably right. He almost always is. Regardless, I'm going to try. You deserve that.

First, I wanted to tell you I love you. That hasn't and will never change or stop. I can't imagine any scenario in which my love changes. Even if I don't or can't show it, even if I don't say it, even if I'm scared or angry or any other range of emotion, I'll still love you. Please don't ever let that slip your mind."

Richard felt tears welling up in his eyes as he read. They stung, but it was a good kind of pain.

\------

Till cleared his throat as he tapped his now-sore finger against his leg anxiously. He wanted to smoke, but he'd be damned if he moved more than three feet away from Richard's door. The only way he would leave is if Richard told him to, and he would have to wait until he'd read the note first.

\------

"The second thing I want you to know is that I'm sorry, for so many things. I'll list what I can, but the list is infinitely longer than what I can pen down. 

I'm sorry for lashing out at you. You were right; not telling me about Schneider was the very least concerning thing on my mind. It was just easiest to sink my frustration and anger into that, rather than digging around in my stupid feelings and trying to pinpoint them. But again, you deserve my doing so, and I'm sorry I let my frustration out like that at you. 

I'm sorry for not trying to talk. This is not an excuse, but rather an explanation and something I need to work on: whenever I don't know immediately what I'm feeling, I close up and distance myself. It makes it so much harder to get hurt when you don't acknowledge your feelings in the first place, and so much easier to forget about the bad ones too. 

I'm sorry for my stupid reactions. I wish I could have submitted to you, like I've done before. I wish I could have been broken to tell you what I needed to. I'm sorry I got scared and couldn't talk to you.

I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in depth about what works and doesn't work for me. It was foolish and just straight stupid of me not to have a serious conversation about all of this. BDSM is not a game. Yes, it's fun and we've had incredible moments together because of it, but it's not just rough sex, and it's not just throwing your weight around to get what you want. There is so much detail, nuance, things I should have shown you and talked about weeks ago but didn't, and I'm sorry for that. It was up to me, as I'm the one who asks for it and needs it. 

And I'm sorry I haven't asked you for help. I know I need it, and I know you want to help me. You've told me as much, pushed me for it, begged it. I'm sorry I've turned you away. I don't know what's wrong with me that my first instinct is to turn away from someone who loves me and just wants to help me. 

I love you, Richard."

Richard hadn't even noticed that the tears in his eyes were now overflowing, trailing down his cheeks as he read every sorry from his estranged lover's note. He wiped his eyes on the back of his arm, composing himself. There was still another page to the note.

\---------

Till's head thunked back against the pillar. He'd run out of  
fingernails to chew and tapping his leg was now leaving small blood spots on his pants. He folded his arms and stuck his hands under his armpits, or as well as he could with his cast on. His arms were beginning to tremble from the anxiety and he wanted to make it stop. His every instinct told him-- screamed, actually-- to get up and walk away. If he left, he could put his mind elsewhere and move on from the bad feeling he had sitting heavily in his gut. 

No. 

Till gently tapped the floor with his casted hand, instead of bashing it like he wanted to. Richard deserved his patience, even if it were uncomfortable. He deserved *Till.*

So, Till continued to wait.

\---------

"Now comes the part that's more difficult. I'm going to try to explain what I was feeling last night, as best I can. Then I'm going to try and ask you for help, again, as best I can. It may not make sense, and it's almost certainly going to sound idiotic, but I need to try. I need you back, and I need your help so we don't end up like this again. 

With that in mind, I really need to explain the punishment shit, I think. I'm still angry that I've not done this before, back when we first started all this together. 

As you know, when I ask you for punishment, it's very specific. I need the pain to help me either into something that's difficult, or past things. There is always something that I'm reaching for or pushing away. The problem with this strategy is *I* have to ask for it. I don't feel good about it if I've not asked for it, or if it's brought on suddenly; especially if I know you're angry. 

That's probably the biggest thing, I think. When you're upset, I feel it. Not just "oh I sense you're upset." No, I feel your muscles tighten, your touch harden; everything about you changes. When I feel that, physically, it hurts me. Not the grabbing, not the choking; feeling you angry at me, that's what hurts. Combined with the suprise of you coming at me, it-- well, it scared me, Rich. I'm sorry if that's a burden, but this is really important. 

You scared me with your anger and how you showed it. For the future, if you're angry, please show it some other way. You can scream at me until your lungs give out; break everything I own, expensive or not; you could fucking kill my fishes at home, and as long as you told me you needed to because you were *that* angry, I'd understand. I'd be sad, but I would understand.

But I just can't handle your anger physically on me. It hurts too much. If we want this to work, that's the first thing I have to ask of you. I know it might be a lot to ask, but this is me opening up. I can't handle your being angry at me, and then that anger touching me. It makes me think of really bad things; it scares me. 

I know you didn't mean it, and that you'll not do it again. So I won't keep on it. 

The only other thing I want to bring up would be something a lot more difficult for me. I want to ask for your help. I know I'm terrible at expressing myself when emotions are concerned. Believe me; you think you know how stunted I am in that area? I'm at least 350x more aware of it, painfully so. It's why I've discovered that punishment can sometimes work. I've exhausted so many options trying and failing to help my own self over the years. That's the only thing that has stuck. But I know it isn't enough. 

I need you to help show me how to show *you* my feelings. I need help figuring them out, explaining them. Even just sitting and talking, I need help with. I hate asking. Therein lies the real trouble. I don't want to bother. It sounds ridiculous, I know: Till Lindemann, international rock singer, afraid of bothering his boyfriend by asking for help when he's feeling down. 

But that's exactly it. I do need that help, and yet again, you deserve to be the person I turn to for help. I know it's a burden, and I can never apologize enough for it. But I desperately want this to work, Richard. I want *you.* I know it won't unless we both work at this, me especially. 

Again, I love you, Scholle. Always will. 

And my frightened pussy self is still sitting outside your door for when you finish this letter. If not, just give me a call and I'll drag my shameful dick right back to you. Hopefully, I'll have just stayed put and waited. We'll see, I guess.

Love, Till."

\---------

Till's ears perked as he heard a door open. He peeked around the column he was braced against, then immediately felt disappointment as he saw it wasn't Richard's door. A large family dressed all in swimwear bustled down the hallway, talking in excited high pitched tones as they all bounced away. Till sighed, and moved back to sit behind the pillar and wait.

A hand on his shoulder made Till flinch hard, but seeing Richard's face above him instantly settled him. He blinked up at his boyfriend. 

"You read it?"

Richard nodded. He looked as though he'd been crying, and that made Till feel sorry for him. But Richard smiled down at him, and even with his reddened eyes, Till found him beautiful. 

Till reached a hand out and held Richard's calf with it, tentatively.   
"Can I come in and talk to you?"

Richard smiled at that, and nodded down at Till.

Till suddenly grabbed both of Richard's legs and hugged tightly, nearly knocking him over. Richard leaned down and held Till as well, petting his head and pressing a firm kiss onto him. 

"Come on," Richard said, helping Till to his feet. "Let's talk, love."


	25. Back to Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Till talk, and all is right with the world again.

Richard led Till back into their room by his hand. Till followed obediently, as a quiet puppy would. Richard pulled him onto the bed and hugged him tightly before speaking.

"Thank you for the letter, Till," he said, kissing along Till's temple. "I know it must have been incredibly difficult to write."

Till grunted in affirmation and leaned heavily into Richard's body, wrapping his arms around the smaller man in a firm hug.

"I really appreciate how you detailed everything," Richard continued. "I feel like I understand you a lot more, now."

Till looked up at him then, his liquid green eyes meeting Richard's blue and making Richard feel a surge of love and adoration for him.

"You do? It was-- was it clear enough? I really tried to make it clear…" Till's voice trailed off and he dropped his eyes, choosing instead to press himself to Richard's chest.

Richard kissed the top of Till's head and ruffled his hair.  
"It was clear. It was perfect, Till. Thank you."

Till nodded against him. 

"Can I talk now?"

Richards hesitant voice drew up Till's gaze again.  
"Of course, Scholle. While you do, can I…?"

Till let the question hang as he maneuvered his bulky body on the bed, finally settling in a laying position, his head gently set into Richard's lap. Richard beamed down at him, resuming petting his hair in contentment. Till rumbled happily. 

"Sure. As long as you can listen."

Till moved his head in a confirming nod.

"All right. So, first, thank you again for everything you said. I know it wasn't easy, and I'm incredibly thankful you pushed through it to tell me all of that."

Till grunted, and Richard knew that would likely be the extent of his talking unless he were asked something specific. Richard didn't mind. It was his turn to talk and get everything off his chest, now.

"Well… I just want to tell you how sorry I am. I never, never should have grabbed you like that. I would say I have no idea what came over me, but I do. I was angry, I was frustrated, I was pissy and it wasn't even all at you. Just like you said it wasn't all about Schneider, for me it wasn't just at you either. I should have talked, too. Should have begged you to stay and talk in a way that wasn't forcing."

Till started to grumble and sit up, and Richard knew he felt uncomfortable with Richard's apology. But Till needed to hear it, and Richard wasn't upset or angry this time. He gently but firmly held Till's head in his lap and shushed him.  
"Just let me finish, please?"

He lifted his hand, giving Till the opportunity to get up if he truly wanted to. Richard did his best to be firm in a very respectful way now. 

Till looked up at him again, then simply blinked his eyes slowly, giving Richard permission to continue, and then put his head back down. He slid an arm around Richard's waist as well, gently squeezing. 

"It shouldn't have happened. But now that you've explained to me just how deeply that hurt you, I want you to know it will never, *never* happen again. I promise, Till." He hugged Till's body tightly, and Till nodded his head again. 

"I want you to feel safe. I'll do anything in my power to make sure of that from now on. I also do need some instruction for, well, I guess just being a good dominant for you. I love being able to do it, both because it's fun but also because I know how much it can help you. But I want to do it right, and I never want anything to happen because of my own ignorance. Brace yourself for constant questions. I'm going to annoy the shit out of you so that I don't make the same mistakes again."

Richard paused his speech to smile down at Till's head that was burrowed in his lap. Richard stroked his fingers along Till's hand on his waist, then slid his fingers between Till's to hold his hand. Till released a pleased breath but still said nothing. 

"I'll always help you if you ask me, and I'm going to do my best to learn when you need help and can't ask. Maybe we need to come up with something to make it easier for you."

"What do you mean?" Till asked, his voice quiet and happy.

"I don't know, maybe something like a safe word, but for asking for help? Or a gesture of some kind?"

Till turned his head to look up at Richard, who immediately regretted saying that as a giant grin spread onto Till's face.

"Not *that* gesture," Richard said before Till could articulate it at him. 

Till chuckled, but then said sincerely, "I think that could be a great idea. If I don't have to speak to ask for it, that would make it much easier."

"And I wouldn't have to just guess at it. You don't have any problem asking me for punishment though?"

"No. That's pretty easy for me to do. If it involves pain, I'm all about it."

"Pain or sex."

Richard felt Till's giant smile against his thigh. 

"Did we cover everything, do you think?" Till asked.

"Almost. I just wanted to tell you one more thing."

Till rolled over to have his face pointed up at Richard and waited for him to continue. 

"Flake said you mentioned Kayleigh in your text to him."

Richard felt Till's neck tense, and watched as his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Richard put his hand on Till's cheek and rubbed his thumb across it comfortingly.

"I went ahead and told her I needed a few days to myself, to spend some focused, quality time with you. I'm sorry I got swept up and distracted like that, and I'm even more sorry I left you when you needed me. I promise that won't happen again, and she will always take a backseat to you and your needs. You're my number one priority, and I'm going to make sure you understand and feel that."

Till's expression softened as a small smile touched his lips.  
"Thank you," he said quietly.

Richard bent down awkwardly and kissed Till, needing to feel him close again. Till sighed happily at the kiss, and pressed back as he felt Richard moving to try and kiss more deeply. 

Richard sat back up and rubbed his back.  
"That hurts to bend like that. I didn't really sleep last night, but when I did, I think I slept badly on my back."

Till wiggled out of Richard's lap and sat up, then climbed behind him on the bed. He stuck his legs out on either side of Richard's hips and began massaging him.

Richard immediately moaned in relief and allowed his body to go limp under Till's touch. A smirk of satisfaction made its way to Till's face as he worked, rubbing and pressing hard to ease the knots along Richard's spine. 

Richard hissed and pulled away as Till hit a particularly sore spot up along his neck, but Till looped an arm around his chest and pulled him back, hushing him.  
"It'll feel better once it's rubbed out," he assured, then started giggling. 

"If you're laughing because you said "rubbed out," I swear to god, Till." Richard's words were annoyed, but he said them with a laugh of his own. Till kissed the back of Richard's head. How he'd gotten so lucky to have a boyfriend who appreciated his filthy, terrible humor, he would never know.

He redoubled his kneading and pressing, determined to find every sore spot and ease it. Richard moaned again, blissfully.

"You're wonderful," Richard said.

"I have my moments."

Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, Till wrapped his other arm around Richard and hugged him tightly.

"Till?"

"Mm?" His face was pressed into Richard's neck, allowing only a muffled response.

"Do you perhaps want to have sex?"

"Whatever makes you ask that?

Richard grinned. "I was just curious. Had a bit of a feeling; that feeling being you poking me in the back with your erection."

Till laughed. "I apologize. My dick has a hard time distinguishing between sexual moans and massage moans, I suppose."

"No need to apologize."

Richard took Till's hand and put it in his lap, allowing him to feel Richard's own stiffness through his boxers. Till made his signature rumbling noise that never failed to turn Richard on rapidly. 

"Do you want to have sex?" Richard asked again.

"If it's not an inappropriate time to do so, yes. Very much so."

Richard looked over at the bedside clock.  
"Well, we do have a few hours before rehearsal, so I don't see why not."

"Hours?" Till asked suspiciously. "What exactly are you planning, Herr Kruspe?"

Richard turned his head and placed a loud kiss on Till's nose.  
"You'll see."


	26. A Good Boy's Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is in a dommy mood.

The room was filled with happy grunts and wet kissing noises as Richard and Till made out. Till was on his back on the bed, his shirt removed, while Richard laid on top of him, still in just his boxers. They kissed passionately and hungrily, both having deeply missed the physical contact with one another the night before. 

Richard sat back a bit breathless, eliciting a disgruntled noise from Till who reached back for him again.  
"Hold on," Richard said with a laugh as Till grabbed his arms and tried to pull him down again. 

"What for?" Till growled playfully, tugging his arms and gently pressing his hips up to rub on Richard's thigh. 

"Because sometimes you need to be made to wait," Richard said, his voice lowering a bit as he stared intensely down at Till.

Till's eyes widened and he let go of Richard's arms in a hurry.  
"I see," he said thickly. Till swallowed, eager for Richard to continue. 

"Are you in the mood to be told what to do?"

A throb from the stiffness against Richard's leg told him all he needed to know, but he waited for Till to say it.

"Yes sir."

"Good. I want you to go get your collar while I grab something, then come back to bed and sit and wait with it for me."

Till was scampering off the bed almost before Richard even finished his sentence, his "yes sir" trailing along as he dug through one of his suitcases. Richard smiled at his enthusiasm, then went over to a suitcase of his own. He pulled out a short leather leash, one they'd used in an old photoshoot.

Till was already sitting on the bed again with his collar in hand when Richard got up with the leash. Till's gaze shone in anticipation when he saw it. 

"I'm going to top you today," Richard stated, wrapping the belt around his hand as he took off his boxers. Till's eyes followed his moments with rapt attention, which pleased Richard.  
"Would you like that?"

"Yes sir," Till immediately responded, nodding his head quickly. "Please."

Till's short, begging "please" made heat jump down to Richard's groin and he released a huffed breath.

"Good. Put your collar on and take your pants off, then. Be quick about it."

Till hurried so quickly he nearly kicked Richard as he tried to rip his pants off. He muttered a sorry as he tossed the pants across the room and buckled the thick collar around his neck. 

Richard smiled at his eager boyfriend, sitting obediently cross-legged on the bed next to him, with his cock firmly pressed up against his abdomen. Richard bit his lip at the sight, and reached forward to rub his fingers against Till's manhood. 

Till sucked in a breath and watched as Richard gently stroked him, just enough to enjoy the feeling and tease him. Till hummed and closed his eyes, pleased at his boyfriend's touch. When Richard released him, Till opened his eyes again and looked up expectantly at him. 

Richard pursed his lips, trying to decide what to do next. He enjoyed how Till shuffled his legs impatiently.

"What should I do to you?" he asked, deciding to tease Till a bit further by both making him wait and pick what he wanted to happen. Domination through forcing him to choose was a fun variation. 

Till blinked, trying to think about the sudden question.  
"Um, I like my collar," he said in an adorably confused, heavily lust-filled voice as he fingered the thick leather on his neck. Till was absolutely charming when his mind was clouded with a sex haze, Richard thought.

"What else?"

Till got antsy, shuffling his legs a bit and fiddling with his collar even more. His anticipation was so cute.

"I would really like to be on all fours again when you top me," he said quietly, avoiding Richard's eyes for a moment. "Especially with the leash."  
Till very hesitantly raised his head to glance up at Richard, gauging his reaction. 

Could this man be any more sweet and attractive? 

Richard nodded slowly at him.  
"I suppose I can manage that," Richard said as he wrapped the leash tighter around his fist, which Till watched very eagerly.  
"I'm really impatient. Are you fine with skipping some prep work?"

Seeing Till's abdomen tighten and his dick throb answered Richard's question immediately. He smiled as Till swallowed and said huskily, "Yes sir."

"Good. Bend over, then. Put your head against the bed."

Till obeyed quickly, hefting up his backside and dropping his torso and head to the bed. Richard immediately grabbed a handful of his ass, squeezing and kneading the muscle along it. He loved Till's butt, and having it presented to him like this was such a pleasure. He released it and gave it a quick spank, which made Till grunt in pleasure. 

"Hush," Richard said absently as he stroked his hand across Till's lower back. He reached forward and clipped the leash to Till's collar, pulling back just enough to put some tension against his neck. Till rumbled again at the feeling of tightness on his neck.

"I said hush," Richard repeated, pulling tighter. Till's head bent back at the tug of the leash, giving Richard a good angle to cup his hand over Till's mouth.  
"If you can't be quiet and respect our hotel neighbors, I'll have to keep you quiet myself. I was going to get some lube, but now I don't think you deserve it."

Till trembled, and while Richard was fairly sure it was from eager anticipation, he wasn't going to take a chance on that anymore.  
"Nod your head if that's okay."

Till nodded so fast Richard almost lost his grip over his mouth.  
"Good. And keep your hands up by your head, too. Only I get to touch you for now."

Though part of him wanted to savor the moment, Richsrd wasn't lying when he said he was impatient. He *needed* to be inside Till, and he needed it quickly. He had to remove his hand from Till's face for a moment; he spat in his hand and quickly rubbed himself, then spit again at Till's crack and wiped against it with his dick. Till stiffened at the feel but stayed quiet for the moment. 

That changed as Richard pushed inside him. Till let out a gasp that turned whimper, making Richard reach forward and clap his hand over his mouth again. He tightened the leash as he shoved himself roughly inside Till. He felt the vibration of noise against his hand from Till's mouth, so he yanked on the leash to quiet him. Till's head jerked back from the tightness, and Richard had a beautiful view of the man's head bent back, exposing his strong neck as he swallowed.

Richard began thrusting greedily, using his grip on Till's mouth and the leash to help pull him back to meet his bucking hips. He could feel Till trying desperately to keep his moans in check, and that just aroused him even more. The only sounds in the room were the slapping of flesh on flesh and Richard's breathless grunting. He pulled hard on the leash and let go of Till's mouth as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. 

Till's breathing was raspy as his head was yanked back even further by the leash. Concerned, Richard loosened his hold and stopped for a moment.  
"Are you okay?" he asked, his own voice a bit gravely from his panting.

Till nodded and looked back, his eyes heavily lidded and his face reddened with arousal. Richard moaned as Till flexed his pelvic muscles around Richard, and Till gave him a bratty, smug little smirk.

Richard took the end of the leash and cracked it against Till's ass, moaning again as he felt Till's muscles tighten around him in response to the sharp pain. It was Richard's turn to smirk as he touched the small welt he'd given Till across his cheek. Till huffed at him, and Richard pulled the leash taut again.  
"You still do not have my permission to make noise, pet," he chastised, giving another spank with the end of the leash. 

Till nodded obediently, and Richard decided he deserved to continue to be fucked. He resumed his rhythmic thrusts losing himself in the feeling. His plateau came quickly, and he used both hands to yank the leash hard as he came. Till's back arched as his head was pulled backward by his neck. Richard finished with a loud groan, then released the leash as he sat back heavily. As he always did, Richard watched in satisfaction as his mess leaked out.

Till looked back at him with pleading eyes, and Richard suddenly remembered he'd commanded Till not to speak or touch himself. Richard swallowed and gathered himself, then got back up.  
"You can talk now," he informed Till.

"Can I please jerk myself off? I'm so hard it fucking hurts."

Richard chuckled at Till's crass desperation but shook his head. Till whined, but Richard shushed him.  
"No, you may not. But because you were good and didn't touch yourself, you get a reward."

Till's pained face lit up at that and he happily rolled over as Richard pushed him onto his back. 

"I'm going to ride you," Richard said matter-of-factly as he hopped off the bed to fetch some lube. While Till might be excited not to use it, Richard would have serious problems if he didn't.

Till looked hesitant when Richard climbed back up onto the bed.  
"That's a very deep position. Do you want me to help you?"

"No, I'll do it myself."

"You're going to be very sore," Till warned, eyeing him as he messily dumped lube down Till's cock.

"I don't care," Richard said breathlessly as he awkwardly pushed his fingers inside himself to quickly loosen up.  
"This is a treat for you. You're going to sit back and enjoy it."

After a minute, satisfied that he was ready enough, Richard climbed up on Till and angled the man's dick up against himself. He very carefully pushed onto Till, inching him inside. Till's hands immediately went to Richard's hips, holding and guiding. Richard was too distracted by the overwhelming feeling of being filled to notice the man's hands. 

Both Till and Richard moaned simultaneously as Richard began to slowly rock his hips. It hurt, but not overwhelmingly so, and the deepness of Till inside him was stunningly pleasant. The faces and noises Till was making got Richard rock hard once again, but he paid his erection no mind. He was far too focused on his movements, pushing Till in and out in slow but thorough motions. 

Till's eyes had rolled back and his mouth hung slightly open in ecstasy. Occasional grunts were all Richard heard from him, but he knew they were exceptionally pleased grunts. After several minutes, he looked up at Richard and swallowed, then said, "Please let me fuck you. I swear I'll be gentle; I just need to move, please. This is too much."

As tempting as it was to leave Till desperate, Richard knew he wouldn't have the coordination to ride Till to completion. He was still very new at this, and Till deserved a good reward. 

Richard nodded, and Till sighed in relief. He folded his legs up on either side of the man, and Till began to very slowly and gently push his hips up. Richard hummed in pleasure, which encouraged Till to move faster. Within a few moments, he was bucking himself into Richard with rapid thrusts, and Richard had to brace himself on Till's chest for balance. Till growled and lost himself as he gripped Richard's hips. His fucking was fast, but not hard, which saved Richard from too much soreness but still gave him immense pleasure at the feeling.

Till's breath caught, and he desperately met Richard's eyes.  
"Can I cum?" he begged with a stifled groan. 

Richard just nodded, unable to speak as Till continued fucking him. It felt too good, far too good. Richard's cock throbbed and leaked, much to his suprise as he'd already finished. He needed to do this more often.

Till's grasp on his hips tightened as he pulled Richard down and held him in place. A strangled, high pitched noise left Till's throat and made Richard's abdomen burn with arousal. He felt suddenly wet as he felt Till's cock spasm inside him. Richard grabbed his own dick and pumped at himself, suprise in the back of his mind as he very quickly brought himself to orgasm again. Though it was a bit smaller, he still pumped out a good amount onto Till's chest in front of him.

Till flinched as he felt the rhythmic contracting of Richard's muscles around him as he came, but the overstimulation was heavenly in his freshly-fucked brain. He also felt a smug satisfaction that Richard had cum twice, thanks in part to him. 

Richard groaned as he came down from his orgasm, slowing his movements on his cock and finally releasing it.  
"That was incredible," he breathed, a little dizzy.

"I agree," Till rumbled. He pulled Richard down into a kiss, trying to hold himself inside Richard for as long as possible as he softened. He finally slipped out, and Richard made a small, saddened noise. Till chuckled and kissed him again before saying, "Don't worry, little Scholle. Plenty of time to put it back there again."

"Promise?"

Till nuzzled against the smaller man's cheek.  
"Promise."


	27. Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider uncovers a side of himself he didn't realize he had.

Flake yawned and stretched, setting his book down on the desk next to his chair. He picked up his phone and smiled at the text from Till.  
"Rich and I are good, thank you."

Till had then sent a door emoji followed by a neck tie. Flake rolled his eyes. As if he were eager to go interrupt them; certainly not. They could keep their sex lives private, thank you.

He glanced over at the little bedside clock, noting that he had about two hours before rehearsal. He texted Paul to see if he wanted to ride over with him and grab something to eat, and on a whim, thought about texting Schneider as well. He knew Oli was with his girlfriend, and Till would likely be in Richard's lap until the last second before they finally left their hotel room together. 

It was sweet, Flake thought. He was glad that the two were happy again. They both needed one another; that was painfully obvious by their misery when they were at odds.

As he mused on the two's relationship, he was startled by his phone buzzing in his hand. He opened his messages, expecting a reply from Paul, but was suprised to see a text from Schneider instead. 

"Hey princess, do you want to eat before rehearsal? Paul doesn't want to beforehand."

Flake snickered at the nickname, pleased that Schneider was making it stick. He was also mildly suprised that Schneider had taken it upon himself to ask Flake out for food, though he supposed it made sense when he knew Richard, Till, and Oli would all be busy.

"My prince can expect me ready at 5," he answered back.

Schneider replied almost immediately.  
"Wear something lacy. I like my dates dressed up."

Flake snorted in amusement at their terrible inside joke. It had no business being as funny as it was, he thought. He didn't really know why their banter tickled him so much. Perhaps he'd been lonely since Till and Richard had gotten together. It didn't bother him, of course, but maybe subconsciously he missed their interactions. Now it seemed he only came to him with relationship troubles. Again, not that Flake minded in the slightest, but having someone around to joke and spend time with was nice. 

With that in mind, Flake quickly googled and found an image of a very lacy, *very* feminine set of lingerie. He sent it to Schneider with the caption, "Just know, I don't put out until the third date."

Flake could easily picture Schneider guffawing over the image, and the though made him smile as well.

\--------

"Well, at least they're happy again. It was about to get *very* old if they were out of sorts while on stage."

Flake and Schneider had chosen to get food to go, bringing it with them to the stadium. They ate on stage, their legs dangling off the edge as they discussed Till and Richard yet again. Schneider had stated his relief at their reconciled troubles.

"I don't look forward to any future falling outs on tour," Flake concurred. "I have a feeling Till would get especially nasty if anything went wrong on top of any relationship problems." He took a large bite of his sandwich.

"Remember when he tossed that mic stand and almost killed the stage hand?"

"He didn't almost "kill" him," Flake corrected around his mouthful of food. "He simply almost "maimed" him. He was remarkably quick for being such a big fellow."

"And you're always telling *me* not to talk with my mouth full," Schneider quipped.

Flake snapped his mouth shut in embarrassment. He was ashamed at his lack of manners, but Schneider just chuckled at him. 

"Relax, I'm not the etiquette police. Eat however you want."

Flake smiled a tiny bit at the reassurance, but finished his bite before speaking up again.  
"That was a day I was once again glad not to be part of the technical crew."

Schneider nodded sagely. "I've not seen him anywhere near as angry since then. I think he got a handle on his rage. Either that or he just gets someone to beat the anger out of him."

"It is absolutely the latter," Flake confirmed. 

"Does he talk to you about all that?"

"Not really. It's just very obvious that it goes on. I worried for him many years ago when I first figured it out, but he assured me he was exceptionally safe and careful. Knowing him, I'm inclined to believe him. And now that he has someone willing to do it who's concerned for not only his physical safe keeping but also emotional, I'm not at all worried."

"Well said."

The two ate their meals quietly then, watching as various stage crew made some last minute adjustments and prepared for the rehearsal. 

"So tell me," Schneider said, breaking the silence after he'd finished his sandwich. "What do you look for in a woman?"

Flake sputtered, nearly choking on his food.  
"Pardon?"

Schneider smiled. "You heard me. What turns your head? Everyone else is very loud about what gets them going, but you've always been quiet. I know good and well that it happens. Maybe less frequently now, but back in the day--"

"Yes, yes, I understand the question just fine," Flake interrupted, brushing crumbs off of his pants. His ears turned pink from the directness of the question.

"Or men too, for that matter. What draws you to someone?"

Flake had calmed himself as Schneider continued to elaborate. It clearly wasn't an uncomfortable topic for him, so Flake reasoned it shouldn't be for him either. 

"Er, well," he started, scratching his head as he thought. "I don't much care whether it's a man or woman--"

"I knew it!" Schneider interjected. "I knew the only straight ones were Paul and Oli."

With a chuckle, Flake corrected, "Actually, just Oli. Paul has gone both ways in the past, but definitely prefers women."

"No shit? Huh. Never would have guessed."

Schneider caught a glimpse of Flake gripping his hands together awkwardly, and his suspicion shot through the roof.  
"Flake…" he ventured, staring pointedly at his friend, "Is there a specific reason you know that about Paul?"

"I am not at liberty to say," Flake said, balling up the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in. 

Schneider threw his hands up in disbelief.  
"All but one person in this band has slept with one another, and none of them knew about it!"

"You're forgetting about the handjobs," Flake muttered. "Oli was there for that too."

Schneider thought hard for a moment and then said, "Oh, yeah. He was, wasn't he? Jesus, that was a lot of drugs and alcohol that night. I'd completely forgotten about that."

Flake hadn't, and his bright red cheeks were prime evidence of it. 

Schneider giggled and elbowed Flake in his ribs. It kind of hurt, so he shot a dirty look at Schneider, who ignored it.

"We were absolutely insane back then," Schneider reminisced. "I'm amazed none of us did anything to fully break up the band, considering the things we *did* do."

Flake did have to concede that point. He'd seen bands blow up over much less, and he did occasionally wonder how they'd been blessed with such resilience. 

"Don't think the revelations about Paul and Oli let you off the hook. I still am dying to know the type of person you like. How can I help be your wingman if I don't know what you're after?"

"I certainly don't need a wingman," Flake grumbled.

"Yes you do," Schneider insisted. "Everyone in this band deserves to get laid with some frequency, and everyone is except you. Well, I assume Paul is. He's just discreet about it."

"I see him with ladies once in awhile, but I think he actually enjoys the afterparties as just that: parties. He loves hanging around fans and talking and drinking. He forgets that he can also bring women back with him if they wanted to because he's too busy being a wholesome person."

Schneider raised an eyebrow at that  
"You're implying I'm not a wholesome person."

Flake began counting on his fingers, "You've fucked two of your bandmates, gotten a hand job from a third, and cum all over the back of a fourth. I've had sex with one, handjobs from four, and want--" Flake stopped and shook his head in fake disgust. "No. We are not wholesome people."

Schneider laughed loudly, but nodded in agreement.  
"You've got me there."

They saw off to the side Till and Richard waltzing into the stadium, hand-in-hand. Though they still kept their relationship on the down-low as far as the general public was concerned, their roadies and stage crew were now all well-aware of the two being together; and the ones that didn't were quickly about to find out. 

Flake got up to greet them, and Schneider tugged at his arm.

"You're still going to answer me about your type," Schneider insisted with a wink. "I won't take no for an answer, either. I'm going to get you laid."

Flake smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes  
"We'll see."

\-------------

The rehearsal was phenomenal, and everything went right for each band member. Schneider's timing was impeccable, Till's vocals were perfect, Paul and Richard were exactly in sync, Oli was flawless as always but was extra peppy today. Flake himself felt especially capable, with his notes hitting crisply and sharply as he meant them to. 

He felt *great.*

The great feeling followed he and the other 5 as they celebrated the perfect rehearsal as they always did: drinking. They'd crowded into one of their favorite bars in Scheeßel near the river, and had the added pleasure of a few fans recognizing them and buying them drinks. 

Till and Richard did their best to be no more than silly drunken friends while in public, but even an inebriated Flake could see them ready to unravel. He was therefore very unsurprised to see Richard hurry off to the bathroom, followed no more than a minute later by Till, surreptitiously trying to appear not in a rush. 

Flake wanted to feel happy for them, he truly did. But he was falling into one of his depressive drinking phases and he didn't know why. His "great" feeling from earlier was rapidly dwindling into a sour, grouchy, confrontational mood.

Maybe Schneider was right, he thought as he downed the last of his beer. Maybe he did need to get laid. He glanced around the bar and was unsurprised to see no one his type, man or woman. Though he trended toward the ladies, or used to, he appreciated the right men just as much as the women, though he was far less experienced with them than, say, Till was.

The sudden thought of Till getting his brains fucked out in the bathroom by Richard made Flake scowl even harder. Well, if he couldn't find anyone up to his standards in the bar, he'd have to find some other distraction for himself. 

Flake pushed away from the bar, earning a questioning look from Schneider who'd been chatting up a lady beside him. He tried asking where Flake was going, but Flake ignored him. He was focused, or as focused as he could be while drunk, on a very burly man over by the pool tables. 

\----------

Schneider frowned as he watched Flake stomp away. He'd seen the look on his friend's face, and it suddenly clicked with him as to what it meant. He shot up from his seat, offering a hasty apology to the woman next to him as he hurried across the bar. He glanced around for Paul and Oli but they were far on the other side of the bar and surrounded by people. It looked like Paul was winning a darts competition.

But where the hell was Till? It was normally his job to keep an eye on Flake when he got a bit too rowdy. He'd done much better lately, but in the past, Flake had a penchant for picking bar fights with men at minimum 5 times his size. Fortunately, he'd always had Till close beside to either pull the overconfident but slight man away, or intimidate whoever Flake had been pushing the buttons of. If calming Flake down didn't work, Till's cold, leveled stare always did.

But now with Till nowhere in sight, and judging by the size of the man Flake was stepping up to, Schneider knew it would be up to him to take care of Flake. 

He felt a possessiveness and a sense of duty wrapping around his emotions. The strength of the feeling suprised him. Flake was his friend, but why did he feel so compelled to protect him?

He reached Flake's side just as the bear of a man in front of him said, "What the hell did you just say to me?"

Flake stuck a finger out at him and was about to repeat himself when Schneider hopped between them.

"Hey now, easy guys," he rambled, trying to shove Flake aside and away from arm's reach of the man he'd offended.  
"I apologize for my friend; he's very drunk and I'm sure he didn't mean what he said. Here, let me buy you a beer or--"

"I absolutely meant what I said," Flake interjected from behind Schneider. "He's a fucking--"

"Shut the fuck up," Schneider hissed at him. While Flake was drunk, the man he was trying to insult was not, and looked ready to kill if Flake said another word.

"Apologize to the man and let's go." Schneider tugged on Flake's arm insistently.

"Yeah you should listen to your boyfriend, you anorexic little fuck," the huge man spat.

Flake seemed to suddenly deflate, his previous confidence and bull-headedness gone in an instant. He swallowed, and then hung his head. He seemed so small, then; terribly small and extremely hurt.

Schneider saw red. He could tolerate a lot of things, but seeing his friend break under the insult of a random stranger who wasn't even drunk was too much. His fist swung before his brain even registered he was punching. He connected with a crack on the big man's nose and staggered him. Schneider yelped in pain, cradling his fist and stepping back quickly. The man roared, blood streaming down his face from his presumably broken nose. He snarled and tried to charge at Schneider and Flake. Schneider grabbed Flake and dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the man's shoulder that blasted past them. Flake cowered and shook in Schneider's arms, making Schneider even more upset. He glared fire and gritted his teeth at the yelling man, daring him silently to try to hurt Flake. He wouldn't walk away again if he did. 

"Enough!" Till's bassy voice yelled across the bar. Everyone stopped at the sudden command, even the man with the broken nose. Schneider was tightly clutching Flake to him, despite the throbbing ache in his hand. He wasn't going to release him either until he was 100% sure Flake would be safe from the raging man.

"Schneider, take Flake back to the hotel," Till said, tight-lipped as he watched the big man cautiously. "I'll take care of things here."

"Till, he called him--"

"Get the fuck out, Doom," Till snapped at him. Schneider felt Paul's hands on his arms, trying to gently guide him back to the front door. Oli was doing the same with Flake, but when Schneider felt Flake being pulled from his grasp, he snarled and tightened his hold. 

"I'll take him back," he said through still-gritted teeth. He half-pulled half-carried Flake out the front doors and phoned a cab for them. Oli came out the front after a minute with a small plastic baggie, which he handed to Schneider. He took it without a word.

"Ice, for your hand," Oli said quietly, craning his neck to look at Flake and make sure he was okay. Flake had wilted into Schneider's arms, and it seemed like he was crying. Oli patted first Flake's shoulder and then Schneider's comfortingly. 

"Till will take care of it," he assured. 

"I don't care," Schneider muttered. "That prick doesn't deserve to be "taken care of" unless it's by Till's fists."

Oli shrugged, more in resignation than dismissal.  
"As much as I agree with you, the law doesn't. We have to make sure nothing comes of this. The bartender knows Till pretty well, so it'll be fine. And apparently that guy is known for being a "prick," which helps too."

Schneider said nothing; he just continued to hold Flake's quietly crying body to his own.

"Make sure he drinks some water," Oli offered before going back inside. 

Schneider still said nothing and didn't bother to look back. 

Paul came out next with Richard. Neither had much to say, but did as Oli had done and gave them comforting gestures before going back inside. 

Schneider felt weary as the taxi arrived, and the feeling stayed with him until he got Flake inside his room, helped undress him and laid him in bed. He heeded Oli's advice and forced Flake to drink some water before he passed out in bed. 

A warm sensation filled him then, looking down at Flake curled up under the blankets, clutching at a pillow. He'd protected him. He'd kept him safe. His hand hurt, but it was nothing. Flake was okay.

Schneider tiredly slid out of his clothes and climbed into bed with Flake. He wasn't going to chance letting him sleep alone and risk nightmares. Plus, Schneider was suddenly far too tired to trek back to his own room.

He had started to drift off to sleep when his phone buzzed. Schneider grabbed it from the table and saw a message from Till. 

"Got it sorted. Flake ok?"

Schneider blearily texted back:  
"Yes. Asleep."

"Good. Your hand ok too?"

"It's all right. Thanks for stopping everything."

"Yeah. I should have been there for him in the first place. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He'll be fine. Night Till."

"Night."

Schneider shut off his phone then, knowing he'd be well awake before they needed to be anywhere even without an alarm set. He shuffled down into the blankets and against Flake's back, throwing a still-protective arm around him. He was yet again just about to drift out of consciousness when he felt Flake stir under his arm. 

Schneider grunted and lifted up his arm as Flake rolled over, facing him now. The man tentatively pressed up against him, which Schneider accommodated. Flake laid his head on Schneider's chest for a minute, then whispered, "Christoph?

"Hmm?"

Schneider moved his head to look down at Flake's big blue eyes, still somehow bright in the darkened room. 

"Thank you."

Before Schneider could acknowledge the thanks, he felt him shift again, and then felt Flake's lips gently press to his own. 

The kiss lasted only the briefest of moments. It was so quickly done that he wasnt even sure it had happened at all before Flake hugged back around his chest and promptly fell asleep. 

Schneider didn't know what it meant, if it even meant anything more than drunken gratitude, and he was far too tired to reason it out if so. He quickly fell asleep holding Flake tightly, continuing to protect him from the unseen dangers in his sleep. He felt warm, he felt needed, and he felt like a protector.


	28. Cool and Collected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake is the master of staying calm and in control... most of the time.

Flake woke slowly, groggily. His mouth was dry, and he coughed to try and clear the junk from his lungs. The clock told him it was still too early to be fully awake, but he was anyway. He glanced over next to him and saw Schneider still asleep, his arm thrown up over his face. Flake studied him for a moment, noting how his bare chest rose and fell with his sleeping breaths. Every third or fourth breath, Flake saw, Schneider's exhale was shorter than the others and ended in a bit of a whining noise. He wondered if Schneider were dreaming. 

Though his head pounded from a hangover, Flake still chuckled to himself as he lifted up the blanket to check Schneider's crotch. Nope, not a sex dream. He'd have to think of another way to tease Schneider, then. 

The other morning had been… interesting. Flake had never once expected to be woken up to Schneider groping him, and especially not Schneider groping him with a hard-on. They'd shared plenty of beds together over their years of knowing one another; Flake had been accidentally "poked" numerous times by various men when they'd had to bunk more than one person to a bed or sleeping bag. It was just a hazard of having a penis and being in close sleeping quarters. But being fondled and finished on like that was something else entirely, and Flake wanted to damn his fair skin complexion every time he felt his face get warm-- like right now. He was cursed with extremely obvious blushing, the kind that spread from the tips of his ears all the way down to his belly button if he were blushing hard enough.

Thinking of Schneider grinding on him and wetting his naked ass was certainly making him blush hard enough, he knew. He'd been so flustered the other morning and worried that Schneider would see his own very naked and very apparent morning wood, that he'd yelled and caused a commotion. He hoped Schneider would be so focused on his own embarrassment that he would miss Flake's. It had worked, and Flake had been gifted the upper hand in their teasings and spared further shame.

Now, though Flake was still quite flushed, the man next to him was asleep and no one was around to witness his embarrassment. It was also fortunate no one could read his mind either; the thoughts currently racing through it would make even a seasoned prostitute gasp. 

Flake wondered if Schneider gasped during sex. 

And that, right there was the end of his thought train. Not only was it wildly inappropriate, he was better than that. Flake was the stable one: the one who never lost his self-assurance, barring severe drunkenness of course. He knew how to maneuver, prod, adjust, manipulate, whatever it took to force a situation to come out right while remaining cool and collected. Flake had an image to maintain, pride if that's what you wanted to call it. He'd not be distracted by errant thoughts of sex. Besides, look where that had gotten Schneider with Till-- nowhere but heartache.

Flake's mind tried to argue a point with him about more than sex but he shut it down immediately. On top of the unwise move it would be, Schneider was still recovering from "losing" both his ex girlfriend and Till, to some extent. Flake had said it before: he knew when it was appropriate and not appropriate to bring up feelings for others, even if were just for sex. As it stood, it was still not an appropriate time. Besides, he'd been particularly careful not to let his interest show as more than casual, lighthearted teasing that could be explained as a close friendship. He was smart.

It wasn't as if he'd kissed the man or something.

\---------

Schneider was having a nightmare. He so rarely even dreamed, that it didn't register as a nightmare; and when he did dream, he could almost always control the dream.

This one he couldn't. He'd lived it before, so he had no idea why he wasn't able to do anything. He sat in a corner of a hospital room, staring at a bed with a tiny lump under a lot of blankets. His short legs dangled of the chair and didn't reach the floor. He was trying to read out a children's book but was having difficulty sounding out all the words. He didn't know this one from memory, but it was his brother's favorite. He heard wailing outside the door, and his father's desperate voice trying to calm his mother. He tried to ignore it.

"K- komm raus, und sp- spie- spiele," Schneider stammered slowly, doing his best to read the hard words in order to block out the noise from his parents and the insistent beeping of hospital machinery all around him. 

He was so tired, and his eyes kept drooping further as he squinted at the page. The letters blurred together, and he felt like he'd been awake for days. Schneider's head sank, and the book slid from his exhausted, trembling fingers to the floor. 

There was a loud, long beep, and from his chair, Schneider lifted his little curly head again. The room was suddenly full of people, but not his mother or father, and they all surrounded the bed. Panic started to choke him as he couldn't see his little brother's form because of all the doctors and nurses. He tried fighting through the tall bodies but couldn't move them. The loud, single beep continued among the murmuring and orders of doctors. The wailing he'd heard earlier turned to an agonized cry from his mother. He heard his father sobbing now, too.

"Jonas!" Schneider yelled, beating against the legs and sides of the people keeping him from his little brother. He was supposed to be watching him, but he'd fallen asleep.

He was the big brother. He was supposed to protect him.

"Schneider?"

A jolt pulled him from the nightmare-- memory, really-- and he woke in a darkened hotel room. He felt stiflingly hot, and couldn't figure out if his cheeks were dampened from tears or sweat.

A cool hand touched his forehead. He blinked to try and make sense of his surroundings, then squinted up at the figure next to him.

"Flake?" he asked, his voice oddly scratchy. 

"Ja," the man next to him said. "You've got a fever. How in the hells did you manage to get such a bad fever so quickly? You were fine night before last."  
Flake had gotten up out of bed and was digging around in the mini refrigerator. 

"I didn't feel especially good last night either," Schneider offered, trying to get out of bed.

"No," Flake said, walking over with some ice cubes wrapped in a cloth. "Stay put and lay this on your neck. See if you can get your fever down and sleep. It's still very early. I think I can go get some medicine to help perk you up at least to get through this festival tonight, then you have two full days to rest. If we need to, we can skip that next festival. Paul hates Neuhausen ob Eck anyhow and would be thrilled."

"Flake, please," Schneider said, waving a hand, "I'm not dying. It's probably just a cold. I'm fine."

"Your body is practically smouldering and you were having a fever dream," Flake said matter-of-factly, dressing himself and preparing to find an all night pharmacy.

"It was just a normal nightmare," Schneider said quietly, but flopped back onto the damp pillows. 

"Normal nightmares don't make people cry."

Schneider wiped his face with a hand self-consciously, then threw his arm back over his eyes.  
"Yes, well, this one does."

Flake pulled his head and arms through a hoodie, then went back to the bed and sat next to Schneider.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"

Schneider moved his arm slightly to give him a wide-eyed glance from under it, then grunted and laid his arm back over his eyes.  
"It's just a bad memory. It replays as a nightmare sometimes. I don't know why."

"What was it about?"

"My little brother." 

Flake frowned, but was a bit distracted to ask anything further about the nightmare.  
"I need to go get that medicine for you so we don't have to deal with canceling today, on the day of the show."

"I told you, I'm fine," Schneider insisted, though he was beginning to feel not at all fine. His body was aching and he felt terribly hot. The ice in the cloth did feel quite good against his neck, he had to admit. 

"Just stay in bed with your ice and I'll be right back," Flake said as he walked to the door. "Try to sleep some more. Without nightmares, if you can manage it. You don't seem to rest much with that going on."

Schneider made an acknowledging salute as Flake left. He felt himself slipping back into sleep, exhaustion overtaking him.

\------------

It felt like he'd only blinked before Flake returned and woke him to take medicine, but it had apparently been nearly an hour. The cloth that had ice was just a warm, wet rag now as the ice had melted. Flake had gotten a plastic bag and filled it with ice for him.

Seeing the plastic bag of ice made him remember Oli's gesture from the night before, and he looked down at his hand. Two of his knuckles were a little bruised, but he could move his fingers just fine. Relief surged through him. The last thing he needed was a stupidly caused injury that made playing drums more difficult. Till was fine with a cast; he would not be. 

He downed the various pills Flake gave him without bothering to ask what they were. Flake was probably a doctor in a previous life and always had the perfect medicine recommendations. He drank several large bottles of water as well, and then buried himself into the blankets to try to go back to sleep.

Flake pulled the blankets away from him and Schneider groaned in irritation.  
"What now, Lorenz?"

"Soup. You need to eat it before you sleep."

"I just drank three bottles of water. I'm not hungry and I'll have to wake up to piss anyhow."

Flake stubbornly held the blankets away and pushed a mug of soup at him. 

Schneider sighed loudly in irritation and grabbed the soup, sipping at it. He was impressed at how good it was. 

"Good. Now finish that and I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. I'm going to shower and wash my clothes."

Schneider barked out a laugh though he was beginning to feel downright miserable, despite the tasty soup.  
"What? Afraid you'll get sick too?"

He heard Flake sniff indignantly which made him smile.  
"I catch things very easily," Flake said defensively. "I try to be careful."

"Bet you wish you hadn't kissed me then, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

Flake looked legitimately confused. 

"I'm kidding," Schneider lied, ducking his head as he swirled the soup in the mug. "You're a princess that gets woken up by a kiss or whatever, remember?"

Flake chuckled a bit at that, but said nothing.

Schneider sighed, realizing the kiss from the night before had been as he'd thought: simply a drunken kiss of gratitude that Flake couldn't even remember. It was probably for the best, to keep Flake from any unnecessary embarrassment at his little social faux pas. 

Schneider just couldn't understand why he felt saddened by knowing it had been an unrembered kiss. It was probably just his brain being feverish.

He wolfed down several more mouthfuls, already half done with the mug despite not being hungry. Flake had a knack for picking food he knew his band mates would love.

"You have a good appetite. That's a great sign," Flake noted as he walked to the door.

Flake looked back at Schneider as he tipped the mug back and finished the last of the soup greedily. He licked his lips, then snorted as he saw Flake watching him. 

"Fine, it was delicious, all right? Thank you. Now go disinfect yourself while I sleep."

Flake smiled and left the room, and then allowed himself to feel the full weight of the horror he'd been suppressing at his earlier remembrance:

He'd gone and kissed Schneider.


	29. Reversed Advisor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake goes to Till for advice. Till responds exactly as expected.

Flake plodded down the hallway to Till's room. He needed to wash his clothes and himself, but this was important. Cleaning could wait.

He got to the door and knocked. The door opened almost immediately to reveal Richard in a hastily-wound bath towel on his waist.

"Hey, Flake," he greeted. "I'm just getting in the shower. What's up?"

"Nothing," Flake waved a hand dismissively. "Just came to hang out. I'm hungover and Schneider's sleeping. I think he has a cold. He's got a pretty bad fever."

"Aw, that's shitty," Richard commiserated, his face saddened. "He gonna be okay?"

"Ja, I think so. Gave him some medicine and food and made him sleep."

Richard smiled at that. "Good job, mother hen." He left Flake and went into the bathroom.

Flake rolled his eyes and walked into the main area, suddenly groaning and covering his eyes as he glimpsed Till spread eagle and naked on the bed. He was smoking a cigarette as he watched TV.

"Your fault for coming over without warning," Till said, shrugging and chuckling. But he grabbed a nearby towel and draped it over himself politely to save Flake's eyes.

"Thank you."

"To what do I owe the immense pleasure of an unannounced smoking interruption?" Till quipped sarcastically, but Flake knew he didn't mind in the slightest.

"I kissed Schneider."

Till paused in the middle of a drag, then let the cigarette just hang from his mouth.  
"Did you, now?" he asked around the cigarette.

Flake nodded, sighing heavily.

"You were drunk, I'm guessing."

Flake nodded again.  
"I didn't even remember until Schneider reminded me about it just a few minutes ago. I was very drunk."

"I'm well aware. I had to pay that asshole 250 euros for him to leave quietly, even with the bartender pushing him out. You remember picking a fight?"

Flake dropped his head. "Yes. Sorry. I drank too much."

Till shrugged and sucked another heavy drag from his cigarette. "Sorry I wasn't around to keep an eye on you like usual. Consider my paying him off as us being square again."

"Hey, aren't you not supposed to be smoking?" Flake protested as he remembered that fact. "It hinders bone healing."

"It's a special occasion."

Flake raised an eyebrow for him to continue. 

Till blew out a perfect little smoke ring, then smiled.  
"Six months."

It took Flake a moment to understand what he meant, then it struck him.  
"Till, that's fantastic! I'm so proud of you two. That's a major accomplishment."

Flake saw Till's smile broaden, and could easily tell the man was extraordinarily happy.  
"It's the longest relationship I've ever had," he admitted.

"I know. And the first truly serious one, right?"

"Ja." 

"Congratulations, Till. Who knew that all this would have come about in such an odd way."

"Indeed. All because I let a stranger put his dick in my ass."  
Till chuckled as Flake grimaced at him prudishly.

"Enough of me and Rich, then," Till gestured for Flake to go on. "Tell me about you and Schneider."

Till had finished his cigarette and crushed it out into the bedside ashtray. He folded his hands and turned his full attention to his friend. 

Flake pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture Till knew as a bubbling over of internal frustration.  
"Come, sit," Till encouraged, patting the bed. 

He did so, folding his long legs up under him awkwardly. 

"So, you kissed him."

"Yes, but barely. I almost can't even remember it. He'd put me to bed and gotten in too, I guess he was worried about me having nightmares."

"Have you had many lately?"

Flake shrugged and said, "I never remember them, so I don't know unless I'm woken up and told."

Till grunted in acknowledgement.  
"So then what?"

"I guess I just rolled over and kissed him. That's all I remember anyway."

"Do you remember why you did it? Was it just being drunk and playful, or do you want to fuck him?"

"Please, if you're not going to take this seriously--"

"I'm being perfectly serious. People kiss for one of three reasons," Till held up his fingers authoritatively and counted.  
"One, they're drunk or just goofing around with no meaning behind it. Two, they want to fuck. Or three, they love each other and want to show affection. I have strong doubts that it's the third, so that leaves joking or fucking."

Flake glared at him over his crass choice of wording but said nothing in protest of it. Instead, he said, "I legitimately can't remember why I did it."

"If he were here now, would you still want to kiss him?"

Flake blushed and said, "Of course not. Even if I love someone, I don't kiss in front of others."

Till rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't mean *here* specifically, Lorenz. I meant you two alone. For your damn specificity: if he weren't sick and you two were back in your room, alone, would you still want to kiss him?"

"Till, this sounds like a parent asking their child if they have a crush on someone at school," Flake complained.

With a small smile, Till asked, "Well, is it?"

"Of course it isn't!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"And just how are you so sure? Explain it to me."

"I, well--" Flake paused for a moment, thinking. "I just am?"

Till shook his head. "Not good enough. You, master of specifics, need to have an actual answer, otherwise you may have feelings involved. I didn't think you did, as you've never struck me as the romantic type, but I can admit I've been wrong before. Do you like him?"

For once in his life, Flake had no witty comeback or solid answer. He was at a loss for words. 

Till marveled at how anxious and worried Flake became when he was unsure of something, which happened so very rarely. He fiddled with the side of his glasses with a hand that trembled slightly. Granted, Flake trembled a lot anyway. He was like one of those tiny, noisy little dogs that never seemed to sit still and was always bouncing and vibrating around. 

"Maybe," Flake finally admitted

Till hmmm'ed and scratched his chin.  
"What made you suddenly realize this?"

"I don't really think it was sudden," Flake said quietly. "I think it's been there awhile. I just ignored it."

"Did something make you un-ignore it?"

Till watched as Flake immediately flushed a deep red, and he chuckled.  
"Did you do more than kiss, Lorenz?"

"No!" he said, a bit too loudly and hastily, Till thought.  
"At least, *I* didn't."

"He did more than kiss you? Schneider's been a busy man lately."

"No, no; not on purpose."

"You're going to have to just tell me, Flake. You aren't making sense."

Flake's blush deepened and he rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Schneider woke me up by, well…"  
Flake released a huge breath and said the rest in a rush, his words tumbling all over each other with an occasional stutter, "He held me and humped my ass until he finished while he was still asleep."

Though he said nothing, Till's eyebrows raised and a smile played at his mouth.  
"And you just let him finish? Did he wake up afterward? Were you two even wearing anything? This is more entertaining than reality tv, Flake. I want to know everything."

Flake looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear, but he knew Till wouldn't leave him alone until his curiosity was satisfied.  
"Yes, I let him. No he didn't, but I woke him right after. I was naked, he wore his boxers."

"What did he say when you woke him up? What did *you* say?"

"He apologized for it. I played it off like I was disgusted by it, but playfully so. It made him focus on himself and not me."

"Because you were aroused," Till surmised, his smile broadening as Flake's grimace deepened.

"….yes." 

"Smart. I guess he didn't notice, then?"

"No. As far as I know, he has no idea. Considering *I* had no idea really, it makes sense he wouldn't either."

"Well, then that brings us to what you're planning to do about it."

Flake's forehead scrunched up as he pondered.  
"I don't think I should tell him right now. He literally just got dumped at the beginning of the festival tour, and then just days ago by you, sort of."

"I did no such thing. He dumped *me* if anything," Till protested, an air of amusement in his voice. "But I see what you're saying. That's very mature and considerate, Flake."

"Thank you."

"I think you should fuck him."

Flake groaned and put his head in his hands.  
"Of course you think that. You think everything can be solved by fucking."

"That's because most things can."

"No, they can't. They might get smoothed over, but if you recall, we had this exact same discussion several months ago about you and Richard."

The bathroom door opened and Richard came out, again in a towel with another wrapped around his hair.  
"What about Till and me?" he asked, taking off the towel on his head and rubbing his wet hair vigorously.

Till glanced at Flake, asking silent permission to whether Richard could be told about it all.

Flake closed his eyes and rubbed them beneath his glasses, but nodded.

"Flake is… "interested" in Schneider." Till put a strong emphasis on the word "interested," drawing it out as if it were an oddity of a word. 

Richard's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in genuine shock. "Seriously? Since when? Have you said anything to him or him to you? Doom's been busy, hasn't he, Till?"

Till laughed and rubbed Richard's back affectionately.  
"That's exactly what I said, but apparently it's been all on Flake's side. Well, except for the one thing." He looked at Flake again who suddenly smiled.

"I've already told Richard about that bit."

Richard's eyes widened further. "You were being serious about that?? Flake, I thought you were making terrible jokes! He tried to fuck you in your sleep?"

"In *his* sleep," Flake corrected, "but yes. And then came all over me before he woke up."

Till started belly laughing at the mental image, and Flake chuckled as well. Richard was still stunned, but smiled along with them.  
"I really can't believe it. What a romantic way to realize your love for someone else," Richard teased.

"Hold on, I never once said I loved him. Interested, yes. But I don't have a whole lot of "love" experience. I'm not sure that's what this is."

"I told him they should just fuck, but Flake disagrees."

"I find it a bit inappropriate to try and sleep with someone who, just days ago, had what was essentially a breakup, and then just a few weeks before, an actual breakup. It comes off as opportunistic, especially since I'd given Schneider advice concerning you two."

Richard pursed his lips in thought before chiming in with his opinion. "I see what you mean, Flake, how that might be seen as improper or taking advantage of him. Has he said anything or shown any reciprocal interest in you?"

Flake shrugged and said, "We've spent a fair amount of time together lately, been teasing and friendly, but nothing necessarily over the top or that could be seen as more than friendship. I was trying to be careful not to get carried away."

Till groaned as he grabbed Richard by the hips and pulled him into his lap on the bed. Richard smiled happily and snuggled against him.

"You think far too much, Flake," Till chided, running his hand up and down Richard's arm. "Sometimes you simply need to let your body think for you. If you want him, go for him. Let your bodies figure out the rest. If he's interested, you'll know immediately. If not, you'll also know immediately and we all know how good you are at playing off sexual jokes. That's all it would be between you, then: a funny joke. Now, I hate to be brusque, but unless you care to see yet another "celebration" between Richard and I, I'll advise you to go elsewhere."

Till turned Richard's face to his and began kissing him, running his hand from his arm to his smooth chest and flicked a finger across one of his nipples.

"Yes, yes, I'm leaving, just give me five seconds to actually get out the door before you start fucking," Flake complained. 

Till snorted in amusement as Richard chuckled simultaneously while Flake scrambled off the bed and stomped over to the door. 

"I'm serious about just having sex with him," Till called. "Doom thinks most clearly when he's fucking."

An annoyed grunt sounded before the slamming of their hotel door. 

"Do you think he'll do it?" Richard asked as Till moved him on his lap to face him. 

"I honestly have no idea," Till admitted as he started kissing along Richard's jaw. "Flake is a mystery I've not even figured out yet."

"I hope he does," Richard continued, occasionally shivering as Till alternated between kisses and gentle nips at his neck. "I would love to see them together, though it's not something I've thought about until now. They would fit so well together."

Till grunted in agreement, then growled deeply.  
"Enough about Flake. Let's properly celebrate our six months, my sweet scholle."

With mixed giggles and moans, the two fell backward against the hotel bed on one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it's been a bit between chapters. As with everyone else, my life got a bit upended because of the Corona virus and I was put on an indefinite hiatus from work. It sucks, a lot, but I'm incredibly thankful for this community and ability to keep writing this story for everyone. It's definitely helping to keep me sane. 
> 
> As always, I welcome and encourage any and all feedback, both here and on Tumblr (NikoNotHere there as well). I will always answer messages and comments, even if I dont get to them right away. 
> 
> I look forward to moving forward with this series with you all, especially with all this newfound free time for it!
> 
> <333


	30. Unusual Shower Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake washes the sick germs from himself and has a brief introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short but hopefully fun ^_^

Flake felt grouchy as he left Till and Richard's room. He needed a shower, and better advice than "go fuck" in regards to he and Schneider. He should have known better than to expect anything more from Till. Maybe he should have asked Richard first. 

He quietly unlocked his room and went inside, careful not to let the door slam. Though he'd given Schneider some hefty cold medicine that should have knocked him out for a good several hours, he still wanted to be quiet just in case. He needed to sleep and rest to help his body fight off whatever got him sick. Flake peeked around the corner and was pleased to see Schneider hadn't moved from his sleeping spot since he'd left the room. 

As quietly as he could manage, Flake gathered up some clothes from his suitcase and tiptoed back to the bathroom for a shower. He performed his normal ritual of adjusting the temperature and folding his dirty clothes before stepping into the shower. He sighed happily as the warm water beat along his head and neck. 

After his well-practiced routine, Flake felt refreshed and much less grouchy with his body clean and now germ-free. He stayed under the water for a minute longer than usual, letting the enjoyable feelings of the heat and steam flow through him. Without consciously meaning to, his hand strayed, rubbing across his abdomen and stroking pleasantly. Flake sighed happily, and it occured to him as his fingers drifted further south that he'd not "taken care" of himself in quite awhile. 

His libido had been lower lately, but not abnormally so during their tour. His sex drive always dipped when they traveled and played shows, as his focus was lasered on their performances and his anxiety tended to spike. Flake was a creature of habits and comforts, and unless he was thoroughly relaxed and happy, sex was the furthest thing from his mind, even "solo sex." 

But for now, he was happy, warm, and pleased by the sensations of water pelting along his skin. A stray thought of Schneider entered his mind but he brushed it away, reasoning that masturbating was always good for clearing one's head. It would likely even help him settle on a decision for what to do about his feelings for Schneider. With that thought firmly in mind, Flake began lightly running his fingers along his length. Though still soft, Flake acknowledged that he'd been blessed with an above-average member. He'd not be winning any prizes for thickness, but his length even while soft was substantial. He was what Till referred to as a "show-er," but also a tiny bit of a "grower" as well. Flake was far from an arrogant man, but he did know for a fact he had a very nice penis.

As he began slowly stroking himself, Flake leaned gently against the wall of the shower and closed his eyes. Masturbating for him was one of very few areas of his life where he didn't have a set routine. He simply took care of himself whenever the urge struck, with whatever means seemed appropriate and enjoyable. Images flitted through his mind, thoughts of beautiful curves, soft breasts, firm abs-- there was no clear direction or focus, but rather a melding slideshow in his brain of pleasantness. He imagined both female and males in almost equal quantities, their respective offerings exciting him without discernment. 

As his arousal grew, Flake switched from stroking to holding his fist loosely around himself and rocking his hips to gently fuck into his hand. He stood up straight in the shower, then leaned one hand up against the wall in front of him to brace himself as his hips moved more quickly. Flake had never been one for toys or frilly sex accessories, reasoning that if his hand did as good a job as it did, why bother with any extras? That said, he'd been an adventurous man in his youth, and there was very little he'd not experimented with sexually. All of his escapades and adventures had helped him discover that he was a very simple sexual creature. He appreciated sexual beauty in its basic forms, and rarely felt the need to go beyond that. As such, he was easy to please, and years upon years of getting to know his own body made him even easier to get off when he wanted to. 

Satisfied with the amount of time he'd spent teasing and enjoying himself, Flake decided to finish. He leaned even further forward, bracing his forearm on the wall and thrusting himself even more firmly into his hand. Flake was very quiet sexually, both due to a bit of bashfulness he'd never really outgrown, as well as a desire for privacy. Small grunts were the only sounds that left his mouth as his arousal began to peak. 

The bathroom door swung open suddenly, and Schneider staggered over to the toilet and dropped his pants unceremoniously. 

Flake was absolutely horrified as Schneider began relieving himself, probably too doped up on his cold medicine to even register that Flake was in the shower. The way he was swaying lent further credence to that assesment.

Flake had frozen mid-fuck, his hand gripped tightly around his dick. He tried very, very hard not to move or even breathe, but Schneider had picked the absolute worst possible second to have entered. If Flake let go, took a breath, or even glanced at the wrong thing, he'd be over the edge, and wouldn't be able to stop--

His rebellious, traitorous eyes flicked over to Schneider as he finished, shaking off his dick and pulling his pants back up in a drugged daze. 

That did it. Flake bit his lip so hard he swore he'd need stitches as he felt himself tense and suddenly release. He held his breath through each agonizingly strong pulse, mentally cursing himself with each one. How he managed to stay quiet, he couldn't say, as his orgasm had been extraordinarily strong from weeks of being pent up. He held himself in a death grip, trying to cause the throbbing to cease through sheer willpower. It didn't work, and he continued until he was left with no more than dribbles with the last, weak pulses of his cock.

When he finally was forced to gasp for air, his lungs on fire from lack of oxygen, he turned his head and nearly fell over in relief when he saw Schneider had left. He groaned and fell back against the shower wall with a bang, uncaring who heard him now. Why the hell had he come in *right then* of all times? He vaguely recalled Schneider warning him he'd have to get up to piss if he were forced to eat the soup, but Flake had dismissed him. Perhaps he should listen in the future.

He sighed, shivering a bit as the water tickled his over-sensitive dick. With more than a little disgust, he wiped off the wall and cleaned away all evidence of his embarrassing climax. While he may feel like a disgusting pervert, at least he was the only one who'd seen the shameful act.

Back in the room, Schneider was falling back asleep with an incoherent memory that he felt sure was a fever dream, in which he'd watched Flake fucking his hand in the shower. His bleary mind gave up trying to decipher reality from dream and he drifted back into an unconscious, medicine-induced sleep.


	31. Old Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake runs into Paul and has a very productive rant.

After thoroughly drying himself and re-dressing in germ-free clothes, Flake peeked out of the bathroom, praying to all known and unknown gods that Schneider had just gone back to sleep. 

He had, and Flake sighed in utter relief. One less thing he had to immediately worry about. He could focus on the long-term worry of what to do about his confusing feelings for his band mate. Flake had a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he realized the parallels between his current situation and the one he'd been in the middle of six months ago. While it had turned out well for Till and Richard, Flake and Schneider were completely different people. Flake was analytical, careful, and very cool in his dealings. Schneider was secretive, closed-off, and calculating as well-- borderline manipulative. The two were as different from Till and Richard as they could be. Just because those two worked out gave no promise to anything between Flake and Schneider having the same stupid luck. 

Flake rubbed his face somewhat angrily. He was always so full of good advice for other people. Where was his head when he needed advice for himself?

He needed to walk. Walking always helped him. Though he had nowhere nice outside to walk, as it was currently raining, he could make do in the hotel. He quietly opened the door and closed it gently behind him, making a mental note to come back and wake Schneider an hour before they needed to leave for the concert.

Flake walked down the hall, his feet hitting with slightly more force than his usual walk. He was frustrated and very focused on his internal turmoil. That focus caused him to plow right into Paul as he was leaving his hotel room. 

"Oh, sorry Flake," Paul apologized.

"Paul," Flake blurted, "Till insists I need to have sex with Schneider, but I disagree, and I need a second opinion."

Paul's friendly smile faltered, and he stared wide-eyed at Flake's sudden barrage of information at him  
"Er… do you maybe want to come in and talk about it?" he asked in confusion. 

"Yes, thank you." Flake hurriedly brushed past Paul and into his room.

Paul sighed and made a sarcastic "come-in" gesture after Flake had already entered, then followed behind him.

"Make yourself at home," Paul quipped with a smile, seeing Flake already flopped down onto his bed. 

"Paul, you know how just six months ago we were caught between Richard and Till and their stupid dance around each other's attraction?" Flake was wasting no time jumping into his conversation. 

"Yes…? That's not a situation you forget very easily. Does that have something to do with Till wanting you to have sex?"  
Paul was entirely befuddled as he sat down on the bed next to Flake, checking him closely to see if he smelled of alcohol. He was speaking as if he were drunk, but seemed in control of himself physically. It was very bizarre behavior for his friend, and Paul started to get concerned. 

"Yes. And also no. Paul, you remember when you and I fooled around, the Feeling B days?"

Paul's cheeks got a bit pink, but he nodded.  
"Of course. It's been a very long time since I've thought about that, but I remember. Are you okay, Flake? You're being very erratic. Did you take something?"

Flake wiped his face with a hand and groaned.  
"I wish I had. Then I'd have an excuse for how insane I feel at the moment. I legitimately feel like I'm losing my mind, Paul."

Paul's brow furrowed in concern.  
"Just tell me what's wrong and I'll tell you if you're crazy or not."

Flake gave a pained smile at that. It was good he'd run into Paul, one of the more stable and upfront members of the band. 

"I think…" he said, finally slowing his frantic words to a more normal cadence, "I think I want to have sex with Schneider."

Paul rubbed his cheek thoughtfully.  
"What made you think that? Seeing him and Till fool around?"

"Oh god, no," Flake said, wrinkling his nose at the thought. "I'm already too knowledgeable about Till's sex life."

"But you said Till wants you to have sex with him?"

"Yes, but just because he thinks that will help me decide if I like him or not."

Paul's eyebrows shot up again as he asked, "You think you might like him, as in *like* like?"

Flake rolled his eyes, which came off comical rather than derogatory as he was still flopped on his back along Paul's messy bed of clothes and blankets.  
"You sound like a teenage girl, Paul."

"Me??" Paul protested. "You're the one talking about having sex to figure out if you like someone!"

"I never said I was going to!" Flake objected right back. "I just said *Till* thinks I should."

"What do *you* think, then?" Paul asked, poking a very insistent finger into Flake's waist. 

Flake yelped, as he very was ticklish, and squirmed away indignantly. Paul grinned, glad he could still cut tension by clowning around with his friend. 

Flake sat up and awkwardly gathered his legs to sit cross-legged on the bed.  
"I have no idea what I think," he admitted. Paul was grateful that Flake was more direct and blunt than Till or Richard. If this were an actual problem Flake was having, they'd at least be able to have a frank discussion about it.

"Well, start small. Do you want to have sex with him? Or even smaller than that, are you even attracted to him?"

Flake sighed as he took his glasses off to meticulously wipe them on his shirt, taking his time with it. Paul waited patiently. Flake would speak when he was ready, and not a moment before. Paul had known him plenty long enough to know at least that much. 

He was quiet for about a minute, then said, "Yes. At the very least, I would enjoy having sex with him. Well, I think *I* would, anyway. It's been so long that I don't know how pleasant it would be on his end."

Paul didn't say anything, but rubbed Flake's shoulder comfortingly. They didn't discuss it anymore, but Paul knew very well about Flake's difficulties sexually, and also knew that it was on Flake whether he wanted to talk about it or not. The fact that he was willing to admit sexual attraction at all was huge for him, regardless of who it was.

Flake started speaking again, his words going back to a rush to leave his mouth, "I was masturbating and he barged into the bathroom and I accidentally finished while he was pissing."

Paul tried, he really, truly did, but was unable to stop the snort of laughter as he clapped a hand over his mouth. Flake looked embarrassed to hell, and while it was both hilarious and adorable to see, Paul did his very best to collect himself so the conversation could continue.

"What--" was all he managed before he sputtered and began giggling like a lunatic, while simultaneously waving his hands at Flake apologetically. He gasped for air and said through wheezing breaths, "Flake, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, I swear."

Flake's depressed face quirked into a smile upon seeing his friend trying so hard to compose himself and failing.  
"Its all right. It is hilarious, so long as it isn't you who did it."

Paul finally stopped laughing and took several huge breaths, finally getting his laughing fit to stop.  
"Really, I'm sorry, Flake. You're obviously very bothered by all this. I promise I won't laugh anymore."

It was Flake's turn to snort at that.  
"Don't make promises we both know you can't keep."

Paul smiled and shrugged helplessly in response.  
"All right, so, what? You accidentally masturbated to him? Is that what made you attracted to him? Or do you have a pissing kink that I'm just unaware of?"

Flake laughed then, a genuine laugh, and Paul felt relieved. Tension made him uncomfortable, especially if it was causing his friends distress. He always felt compelled to ease it. He was a fixer, usually by comedic means if he could manage it.

"No," Flake said, still smiling and much more at ease. "It was legitimately an accident. He just burst into the bathroom while I was in the shower, at the *exact* worst time."

"Ahhh," Paul said. "Too far gone, got it. So if not that, what *did* make you realize your attraction? Or has this been a longer term thing? You're very good at quelling emotions when you need to."

Flake seemed almost proud at Paul's assessment, and Paul again felt pleased. He could read Flake like a book; better, in fact, because Paul hated reading. He'd been Flake's friend longer than anyone else on earth, and Flake was extremely special to him. 

"It's been awhile, I think," Flake began. "I just never acknowledged it because of the poor timings. Schneider has always either been pining after someone else, or actually involved with someone else. It never seemed appropriate to bring it up or even think about it much."

Here, Paul asked his next question very carefully, so as not to poke too hard at a very sensitive area for Flake:  
"Do you think that's why you've been somewhat, well, distanced from other people sexually?"

"If you're asking if my attraction to Schneider has kept me celibate, no, Paul; that's not why."

Paul grimaced at the bitterness in Flake's answer, and was about to apologize when Flake spoke up again, "It may have been a factor, but it certainly wasn't all of it, or even most of it." 

Flake sighed, and it came out as more of a saddened whimper. "I'm not good with, well, any of that," he said lamely. 

"What do you mean?" Paul ever so gently pushed Flake to continue, without coming across as forcefull or overly nosy. Flake hated pushiness.

"I mean I still don't like myself." Flake winced at the admission, but his blunt personality kept him from mincing his words or covering the truth with nicer phrasing.  
"I don't feel attractive, to anyone, and the thought of asking someone as, well-- someone as attractive as Schneider for anything sexual terrifies me, nevermind the fact that he's a close friend as well."

Flake clutched his hands together and wrung them, and Paul felt an ache of sorrow for his friend. He knew about Flake's self-esteem issues, and how he always desperately overcompensated for them with ridiculous stage outfits, allowing himself to constantly be the clown of their shows and at the butt-end (figuratively and literally) of any jokes made about the band. He thrived on the goofy attention, but Paul knew the deep-rooted reasoning for this outlandish behavior was all an attempt to hide himself. He covered his insecurities with brazen ridiculousness, so everyone would never think that he, the outrageous Flake Lorenz, could ever be self-conscious or afraid. 

But he was. Sitting with Paul, Flake was small and scared, and so very insecure. 

Paul pulled him into a hug, doing the only thing he knew how to do at that moment: comfort. He couldn't argue Flake's points logically, as Flake would best him in a matter of seconds with his self-criticizing wit. He couldn't yell, because Flake simply ignored any raised voices or heightened emotions from others, as he was an overly rational and clinically-thinking person. And he certainly couldn't assure Flake of his attractiveness, even though he'd done so very thoroughly many years ago. Flake would simply argue that it had been a long time prior, and that they'd just been two horny, desperate teenagers with minimal access to girls. Paul knew better, but it would do Flake no good right now.

So, Paul just hugged him, as a comforting older brother would, assuring him silently that despite the current difficulties and whatever troubles were warring inside him, he would be ok. 

Flake melted a bit in his embrace, then slowly moved to hug Paul back. When he finally pulled away, Paul saw a tiny bit of mist in his eyes; though he knew Flake wouldn't cry in front if him, it was as close as he could come. 

"Thank you," Flake mumbled, rubbing his nose with the back of a hand. 

Paul just shrugged and smiled at him as if it were no big deal.  
"So," he said, "What will you do now?"

"I don't want to just have sex with him," Flake said, thinking aloud. "I know my feelings go at least a little deeper than that, so I don't think a fling would be good for me."

"So Till's advice is out the window, then."

Flake made a face. "The man thinks with his penis first, his heart second and his brain third. Yes, his advice is out the window. Besides, Schneider deserves communication if this is something I actually want to pursue in any way. Which then leads to this being a matter of timing. I don't think now is the right time. He's been through so much in such a short amount of time, relationship-wise, that I would just be another complication."

"Maybe you should wait and revisit it after the tour," Paul suggested. "Just keep doing what you've been doing, minus the masturbating to him of course--" Flake smirked a bit at that, "--and then see what happens when we're back in a "normal" routine."

Flake toyed with the rim of his glasses, smudging them again but seeming not to notice.  
"That's probably the best idea," he agreed. "Wait until all this calms down and go from there."

"And it also leaves a door open for Schneider to make a move in the meantime, which would mean he feels good enough to move on for himself."

"I sincerely doubt that would happen. As far as I know, he just sees me as someone to babysit when I drink too much."

"Well," Paul said thoughtfully, "there is a very large genre of porn dedicated to babysitter sex--"

Paul cackled with laughter as Flake shoved him right off the bed and into a pile of clothes on the floor.

"I'm leaving," he huffed, but smiled as he stomped to the door.

Paul grinned like a fool from the floor and waved at him.  
"Give my best to the babysitter," he called, earning him a rude gesture as Flake left the room. Paul giggled again, and began musing at how interesting seeing Schneider and Flake together would be.


	32. Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider uses a pick-me-up for the show that ends poorly
> 
> *mild trigger warnings at the end ofchapter notes

Schneider had a very weird series of what he could only assume were dreams: bits and pieces of ridiculous scenarios, absurd creatures, both terrifying and pleasant scenarios, until he finally woke again, late in the afternoon. 

He felt less hot, and groggily assumed his fever had broken. The bed sheets were damp from his earlier sweating, and he felt sticky and gross from it. 

Schneider hauled himself out of bed, a bit wobbly but quickly steadied as he made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower to wash off the sweat and clean up for the show that evening, shaving, trimming, and generally trying to at least improve his outward well-being. It usually helped him feel better physically if he looked good on the outside. 

He noted Flake's neatly folded but probably dirty clothes on the bathroom counter as he dried off. He suddenly remembered seeing earlier-- or perhaps it was just another medicine-induced ridiculous dream-- that Flake had been masturbating while he was using the toilet. 

The thought made him want to laugh. Of course it had been a dream. Flake was exceptionally private when it came to his sexual affairs, both with others and with himself. Schneider was still suprised that the man had even divulged his sexuality to him the other day. He had expected a disapproving glare, a sniff, and then a change of subject when he asked about it. That's probably why he'd been so keen on pressing Flake about his preferences; he'd been graced with a rare glimpse into Flake's private life, and he wanted to further it.

As Schneider got dressed and finished doing his hair and other various grooming things, he found himself still musing on Flake in the shower. It was such a vivid recollection. He could even remember how long Flake's dick was, for god's sake. 

He felt a small twinge of-- something-- at the thought. Surely not arousal. He'd seen the man's penis countless times and hadn't given it a second thought. Yes, Flake was well-endowed even while soft, but noting that fact hardly qualified as "interest." He had no idea what was different this time. 

Schneider continued sorting his puzzled thoughts as he admired his outfit in the mirror. He may still feel remarkably shitty with a strong headache, clogged nose and mild body aches, but at least he looked damn sharp. Granted, he would fairly soon be smearing brown streaks across himself and donning a chain link vest and ugly baggy shorts, but for now he looked good.

He was about to leave to go get some food before heading to the stadium when Flake came back.

"Ah, you're up. You look much better," he enthused.

"I feel a good bit better, thank you."

"Fever broke?" Flake touched a cold hand to Schneider's forehead as Schneider rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and I'm not a child. You can trust me to just tell you if I have a fever."

Flake ignored his protest and grabbed several medicine bottles from his backpack.  
"Still congested? How is your throat? Do you have any body aches or upset stomach?"

"Flake, I'm fine," Schneider insisted. "It's just a cold. You knocked the worst of it out of me already, and thank you for that. I just dont like performing while I'm taking cold medicine. I get a fog in my brain."

Flake grunted dismissively. "You need to keep taking the medicine or it'll come back and bite even harder, trust me."

Schneider huffed and rolled his eyes again, but said, "Slightly congested, throat is fine, mild body aches, stomach is fine."

After nodding to himself and dispensing a few various pills from what Schneider saw was an impressive stash of medicine bottles, Flake stuck out his hand to Schneider. With a sigh, he accepted the pills.

"I don't like feeling blurry while I'm playing," Schneider grumbled as he stuck them in his pocket. "Cold medicine always fucks up my tempo."

"Well then don't get sick and you won't need to take medicine," Flake said, zipping up his portable pharmacy back into his bag. "You'll be fine."

"I'll be sure to give my immune system the memo next time."

"Please do. Your sweat makes the bed very uncomfortable to sleep in."

"Planning on sleeping with me on a regular basis?" Schneider asked as he hunted for his watch. He looked over and chuckled at Flakes disapproving glare. 

"You're the one who keeps sleeping with me," Flake corrected. 

"Because you wake up the whole damn hotel with your nightmare-shrieking," Schneider sassed right back. 

Flake scowled but said nothing, which made Schneider sigh.

"Sorry. I didn't mean for that to come off like an irritation. I don't mind looking after you when you need it."

Flake didn't look up from his bag, but Schneider saw his movements become less stiff as he packed.  
"Well, I feel the same for you," Flake grumbled in admission as he finished closing up his luggage.

Schneider touched two fingers to his head in a mocking but friendly salute. "Duly noted. I'm going to get some food before the show. You want anything, or want to come along?"

Flake thought for a moment, then shook his head and said, "I've still got to finish getting ready, and I'll just eat afterward."

"All right, see you there, then."

\-----------------

By the time he reached the festival grounds, Schneider felt downright miserable. The symptoms of his cold had come roaring back, as Flake had warned they would. His whole body ached and his fever had returned, giving him very bothersome sweats and shakes as he changed into his stage costume. The chain mail grated against his skin, cold and annoying, and he regretted throwing away the medicine Flake had given him. He hadn't done it out of any malicious intent or anything; he just disliked how cold medicine made him feel, especially when he needed to perform. 

But now he wondered if he'd still have felt better than he did now, even with the fog of medicine on his brain. He slogged around backstage, making sure he was ready for the show when he ran across Till. He saw him chatting with an old friend-- rather, an old dealer friend of his. Schneider's ears perked when he heard Till make mention of cocaine.

"--for a little celebration," he heard Till say as he walked up.

"Planning a fun night?" Schneider asked, clapping Till on the back.

Till smirked, then said, "Just celebrating a special date."  
Till's smile faltered as he saw how ragged Schneider looked, makeup and costume notwithstanding.  
"You okay, Doom?" he asked.

"I have the flu I think," Schneider said non-chalantly."

Till nodded thoughtfully, then said, "Need a pick-me-up for the show? My friend owes me a favor," he nodded toward his dealer. "He could give you some blow to get you through the concert, at least."

Schneider mulled that over. He almost never took medicine, much less any hard drugs. He was a pretty straight laced man. That said, he felt absolutely awful, and knew his playing would suffer because of it. If he could manage to mitigate the sick feeling just for a few hours, it would almost certainly be worth it. He'd done coke plenty in the past, so he knew it wouldn't be detrimental to his playing either.

"Yeah, actually," he said. "I think that would help a lot."

Till smiled again and said, "All right then." He turned to his dealer and discussed a few more details, then handed over a small baggie that had been passed to him. 

Schneider took it with a grateful nod.

"Make sure you space it out," Till said, a note of warning in his voice. "That's enough for a solid day. Make sure you do only enough to bump you back to normal. You can do the rest however you like after the concert. Speaking of, Richard and I will be out of town tonight celebrating. I'll tell the others, but we don't want any interruptions unless someone is dying, got it?"

Schneider waved a dismissive hand at him, then left with a brief thank you as he walked away. He just wanted to feel better quickly.

With less than a minute before they were due onstage, Schneider took great care in preparing his first line, making sure it was ready to go the second they were called. Cocaine highs didn't last too terribly long 

As he heard the summon from his earpiece, he quickly snorted his first line. Almost instantly he felt his mind clear and his body respond in kind, a rush of what felt like pure adrenaline surging through him. Heat flashed through his body, but it was a pleasant heat unlike the heat of his fever that left him with chills and sweat. He would still sweat of course, but he welcomed the feeling this time. He jogged out of his dressing room to join the others for their customary pre-show tequila shots. Schneider's nerves buzzed as they cheered and drank their shots, and he was grinning foolishly as they took the stage. 

The show passed in a frantic blur, and Schneider had to be told more than a few times to tone it down. He couldn't help it; he felt fantastic, and kept his high going consistently throughout the show by taking a quick break every couple of songs to do another line. Nearing the end of the show, he noticed with only mild distraction that he was sporting an impressive hard on. He was thankful for once that his current stage outfit included very baggy shorts.

By the end of the concert, Schneider felt himself finally coming down, and along with his high went his pleasant feelings. He could feel his cold or flu or whatever it was start to claw its way back through his body, aching and heavy. As they bowed, Schneider anxiously gripped the sides of his pants, wanting everyone to hurry up and finish so he could go back and do another line. He knew better than to let his cocaine use go more than a day, but he was going to make damn sure this day of use would be completely filled. Flake gave him a concerned look but he ignored it.

The moment they were done thanking the crowd, he bolted backstage to the dressing room and laid down another line from the rest of the baggie and snorted it. He instantly felt relief as the aching and sick feelings retreated, leaving him pleasantly hot and awake. 

And very, very horny. 

He wiped his nose with a towel as he heard a knock on the door.

"Come," he called, tossing the used bag over next to their makeup to hide it, just in case.

Flake hesitantly opened the door.  
"Are you okay? You looked a little off onstage. Did the medicine help at all?"

Schneider shook his head too hard and fast, making himself a little dizzy. He rubbed his head with a hand vigorously as he said, "No, I tossed them; I said I don't like to play after taking cold medicine. I feel fine though."

Flake frowned, but shrugged in resignation. "Well, I guess you know your body best. Are you sure you're all right? You look incredibly feverish still, and--"  
Flake squinted at him a bit, and Schneider bounced his leg impatiently.

"Are we done? I've got some stuff to do and I wanna go ahead and get it done."

"Are you high?" Flake suddenly asked, having noted Schneider's pupils blown wide. 

"Yes, your point being?" Schneider asked irritably. 

"Schneider, that's a horrible idea. You're going to feel ten times as bad when you come down," Flake said in a chastising voice. 

Schneider didn't want to hear it. He really wanted to get up and move, and *really* wanted to go have sex. That thought caught him, and he suddenly was reminded of Flake in the shower earlier that morning. He grinned wickedly and pointed at Flake.  
"You were masturbating in the shower this morning while I was in the bathroom," he accused, still smiling wolfishly.

Flake immediately blushed hard, which only served to make Schneider's smile bigger.  
"I-- it wasn't, I didn't know you were--"

"You saw me. I know you did because I saw you too. Very rude to spy on people. Very naughty."

Schneider stood up and bolted for the door, closing and locking it abruptly. Flake blanched as Schneider suddenly closed the space between them and backed him against the wall, bracing his arms on either side of the man's head. Flake started trembling, and cursed himself for not keeping his cool under Schneider's hungry gaze.

"You like me," Schneider stated, putting his face inches away from Flake's. "You like me, and all that nonsense about being embarrassed when I came on you was an act, wasn't it? You loved it."

Flake ducked his head, trying desperately to keep his breathing even and slow his hammering pulse, but failing. He was excited, but this felt so wrong somehow.

When he didn't answer right away, Schneider got impatient and grabbed at Flake's jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes.  
"I think I'm going to fuck you," he said plainly.

Flake opened his mouth, whether to protest or accept, Schneider didn't wait to find out before he crushed his lips against Flake's, silencing him. 

Schneider let his body press hard against Flake's, rolling his hips to get some friction against his nearly painful erection. Flake struggled a bit and made muffled grunts under him, but didn't truly protest. His own body was betraying him, responding enthusiastically to the attention even if he felt he didn't necessarily want it like this. He didn't kiss back, but he did stop fighting after a moment.

Flake felt something wet sliding down his face, and wondered briefly if Schneider were drooling on him. But then he suddenly tasted the unmistakable tang of bitter copper and he pushed Schneider back hard. 

Schneider grunted in displeasure and was about to ask what the problem was, but saw Flake's face and stopped. There was blood smeared across his nose and mouth. 

"Your nose is bleeding," Flake said, out of breath as he pointed to Schneider. 

Schneider glanced in the mirror and saw blood trickling steadily down his face. He grabbed the towel he'd used earlier and tried to wipe it all off.  
"Doesn't matter," he said, failing to staunch the blood flow. He turned back to Flake and grinned again. "Blood doesnt bother me." He resumed his earlier stance of pinning Flake against the wall and tried to kiss him again.

Flake pushed him away again, harder this time. His shame had finally managed to catch up with his arousal and surprise, and had thoroughly overtaken both of them. He felt ashamed and horribly embarassed.  
"Blood bothers me," he said awkwardly as Schneider glared at him.

"So what? We can just get right to the fucking, then." Schneider started unbuckling his shorts and trying to press up against Flake again. 

"I said *no,* Christoph."

After another hard shove, Schneider finally registered Flake's protests. Flake was trembling against the wall, and even in his coked-up delirium, he could see it wasn't trembles of arousal. He stopped fighting with his belt buckle and stared at Flake for a long moment, blood continuing to trickle down his chin and drip onto the floor. Flake looked terrified of him.

Flake lowered his head and muttered a series of apologies as he unlocked the door and hurried out of the room, leaving Schneider alone.

Schneider sunk to the floor and sat back on his heels, trying to piece together in his frantically racing mind what had just happened. 

He had a very strong feeling that he'd just fucked up, badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **mild trigger warning for sexual aggression against someone with dubious consent
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this segment!!! It ended up way, WAY longer than I anticipated, but finally found a decent spot to wrap this part up.
> 
> Mild apologies for the cliffhanger, but only mild. I'm a bit of a sadist ;)
> 
> I hope everyone has enjoyed so far and I look forward to the next segment, which of course will have a hard focus on Schneider and Flake. See you soon!


End file.
